A Game of Circles
by Mendeia
Summary: In every episode of NCIS:LA, there is an unseen moment, a hidden exchange between a spymaster and her finest student. As handler and agent, or protector and orphan, or, sometimes, defenders of one another even when the other would *really rather they not, thanks,* Hetty and Callen have a relationship worth uncovering. Updated weekly, tag for every single episode seasons 1-7.
1. S1E1 Identity

**Conversation is a game of circles. – Ralph Waldo Emerson**

* * *

Greetings!

So, this was a labor of the last year when I got wholly and entirely addicted to NCIS:LA. As with most series that I begin long after they've debuted, I started in the middle. I think the first episodes I watched were somewhere in the end of season 5 into season 6. Almost immediately, I fell in ABSOLUTE love with Hetty. (Okay, who isn't in love with Hetty?) And it was her dynamic with Callen in particular that lit my heart on fire.

However, as I started the series from the beginning, I realized that certain truths which become canonical later were not yet established, as in the very first episode when Callen and Hetty talk about him returning to work and he tells her that he doesn't know what the G stands for – which she obviously knows from long exposure.

Therefore, I began this project as a series of the unseen interactions between Callen and Hetty, cleaning up some of the missteps in the early episodes and fitting pieces of canon in where they belong.

NOTE: THAT MEANS THERE ARE SPOILERS.

NOTE 2: The spoilers aren't that bad.

I didn't give away any information that Callen doesn't have at the start of the series (i.e. what the G stands for, some of Hetty's own history, etc.). However, this story will reference facts which are not in evidence in the series until much later, specifically regarding how long Callen and Hetty have known one another and some of the details of that (as in him knowing about her various houses, etc.). Basically, I wrote a tag to every single episode season 1-7 predicated on the relationship between Callen and Hetty as it stands in the later seasons.

Yes, that means I have 168 of these. They are fully canon-compliant as of the middle of season 10, focused on the relationship between Hetty and Callen. They will sometimes involve others, but the focus is narrow. They are of varying lengths, 500 words to a few thousand, always tightly connected to the specific episode referenced. Apparently they work well as a read-along for a rewatch.

Because there are so many, I will post 3 or 4 a week for the duration of 2019. Feel free to follow along and I very, very much hope you enjoy this labor of love that was the work of last year!

* * *

Season 1, Episode 1: Identity

* * *

It was a ritual, one that had been repeated countless times over the years, begun the very first day he had spent as Hetty's...whatever he was. Starting as a not-quite-adopted, not-quite-foster kid, then a student of tradecraft and the art of espionage, then a protege, and eventually an employee – for years, G Callen had lived in a constant flux, in and out of Hetty's orbit, drawn back like a comet pulled by cosmic gravity.

He might go away for weeks or months at a time on assignment, or just to stretch his legs out in the world. He might be summoned by the government, by a favor owed, or he might, as had happened this time, have chosen to keep his distance while recovering from injury so that he would lead no weakness back to anyone or anything that truly mattered.

Knowing perfectly well, of course, that Hetty would gladly be his shelter once more if he allowed it. That she would never see his injury and recovery as a burden, that she would give as selflessly to him now as she had in his youth.

But Hetty also knew when to let G make his own choices, when to respect his independence and his raw courage. So she let him go, and he let her let him go, and the cycle continued.

And every time he returned, they had a variation on the same conversation which had been their first.

("Now, you'll obviously need some better clothes. I believe those may have been purchased from a garbage bin off the boardwalk. I had no idea the welfare state was so fashion-ignorant.")

"Now, wardrobe for your undercover work. I know you grew up in the well-meaning but cold embrace of the welfare state, Mister Callen. But just because you were an orphan doesn't mean that you have to dress like Oliver Twist."

But what was _said_ signified nothing compared to what was _intended_.

It was comfortable, and it was code. It meant everything it had those years ago, and now so much more.

Then: _You have a home here. You are safe here. I will give you this and ask nothing in return._

Now: _Are you truly ready to return to work? Will you be able to keep yourself and your team safe?_

 _Yes, Hetty. I'm ready. I'm fine. Thank you for caring._

"Now, we need something modern, individual that speaks to the man within."

Then: _I see that you have great potential, Mister Callen. I intend to help you find it._

Now: _I see you. I know you. I am proud of what you have become._

"That's not for you to admire, it's for you to try on. Here and here. This or this?"

Then and Now: _Are you ready to take this next step?_

"Those."

 _I'm still me, Hetty. I'm ready. I'm okay._

"Fitted boot jean, medium weight, distressed denim. I think we need something more relaxed, Mr. Callen. "

Then: _I understand that trust does not come easily to you. I hope to see that change._

Now: _You have my trust. You are not alone anymore._

He laughed. _I haven't forgotten, Hetty. I know you're here for me._

"Something amuses you?"

"Oh, it's just that in three years you've never called me G."

Then: _I don't even have a name. Just a letter. I'm nothing. Why do you care?_

Now: _You pretend to be my boss, as if there were only three shared years between us. But you know me beyond the G. You know what I am chasing. And still you're here._

"It's not a name, it's a letter. Now, if you were to tell me what the G stands for... "

Then: _I don't care what it stands for. I care what you will choose to stand for._

Now: _I know you better than you know yourself. I will let you go, but you must come back._

"No one ever told me. "

Then: _I don't know who I really am._

Now: _I know who I am. Thank you for showing me._

And in that look exchanged they said everything that had no words at all.


	2. S1E2 The Only Easy Day

Season 1, Episode 2: The Only Easy Day  


* * *

After seeing his partner off for the night, Callen found Hetty sitting on a stack of mats in the gym, apparently meditating. But he knew she was aware of everything, every sound in the building. And while it might be bad form to interrupt her, he knew from long experience that Hetty would rather be interrupted now than have him stare at her waiting for the next hour.

"All good?" he asked.

"Yes." She did not open her eyes. "I take it from your presence here, and the lack of Mister Hanna's continued assault against his current favorite punching bag, that your partner is feeling more like himself?"

"Yeah, I think so. It's always tough on him when it's a SEAL."

"I'm aware. Thank you for having his back."

G smiled. "That's what partners do."

"Indeed it is."

Callen turned to leave, but Hetty called him back.

"Oh, and Mister Callen?"

"Yes, Hetty?"

"Thank you for your stellar effort today in not getting shot."

"Like I told Sam – "

"Yes, I heard. I highly recommend giving up getting shot. It will be better for your medical bills, your caseload, and your wardrobe."

"Always about the wardrobe." G sighed, but he was smiling.

Hetty opened her eyes and peered at him. "Little ninja?"

Callen smirked. "Good night, Hetty."

She smiled, warmth in her eyes. "Good night, Mister Callen."


	3. S1E3 Predator

Season 1, Episode 3: Predator

* * *

G circled back to the office after grabbing some dinner elsewhere – it helped sell the illusion that he wasn't sleeping at the office and living out of his duffel bag again. Of course, working with a group of undercover agents, masters of spycraft with observational skills that could make Sherlock Holmes envious, he knew he probably wasn't getting away with it. Maybe the rank and file of the office didn't know. Maybe Eric and Dom hadn't figured it out.

But Nate, Kensi, and Sam? Of course they knew.

And Hetty?

When he re-entered the office, there was a piece of paper sitting on the couch which was his preferred bed, and a new pile of blankets and sheets.

 _Make sure you add these to the wash in the morning. Do not just fold them and reuse them. It's unsanitary._

 _H._

 _P.S. I didn't tell Sam any story about Nepal. I told him the story about Bhutan, which you already know. Neither one of you is ever hearing the true Nepal story if I have anything to say about it._

G laughed. He spread out the sheets and moved the couch cushions until they were just right, but paused before lying down. Hetty's office was dark, but there was enough ambient light for him to make out her desk and her things.

Somehow, her very presence filled the entire space, like a scent in the air, or a strain of music. Like how she and her world had filled up his whole life.

G snatched a piece of paper from his spot at the table and scrawled a few lines on it. He slipped it under her teapot where she would see it in the morning while he was doing his workout.

 _Thank you._

 _G_

 _P.S. It almost makes me wish I had more training in hacking. Who knows what I could learn about all the stories you never tell? But, at least I get my exercise. Kind of like that time you and I ended up going climbing in Nepal. Which is how I know the story already. Sherpas talk too much._

The next morning, Hetty frowned at him without saying a word for a full hour. Only when they had to go into a briefing did she finally glare at him and shake her head.

"You're welcome."


	4. S1E4 Search and Destroy

Thank you to all the people who have read, liked, kudosed, and commented! It's always a little nerve-wracking to enter a new fandom, and you all have made me feel very welcome.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 1 Episode 4: Search and Destroy

* * *

G thought about it all day, what Hetty had said while outfitting him for his undercover work.

"Sometimes damaged goods can actually be more valuable _because_ of their unique qualities."

Leave it to Hetty to remind him of his worth and his value by talking about a second-hand t-shirt.

When he turned the clothing in at the end of the day, he noticed that Sam had left his origami swan, or whatever it was – no, swans definitely didn't have tails, he'd asked Eric to look it up – in the pocket of the jacket. Like Hetty really needed a sticky wrapper folded up into a mutated waterfowl.

Still, G didn't want to be outdone.

He sniggered as he wrote "No blood" on a slip of paper and pinned it to the shirt.

And he knew Hetty would hear the rest.

 _I'm not damaged this time._

 _I came out clean._

 _I'm still able to give my best, and I could do the right thing today without hurting a person who didn't deserve it._

 _Without having to dwell on my own hurt._

 _I came back again. Used or damaged, I still came back._

The next time Callen needed a pair of pants from wardrobe, he found something in one of the pockets. It had to be from Hetty, because anyone else in the OSP who dared touch the clothing which was Hetty's personal domain would have been found in pieces on the floor already. And it had to be for him, because G knew for a fact that these jeans didn't fit the others.

It was a white tea napkin, folded into a perfect origami turtle.

And it was actually a turtle, as opposed to Sam's mess of a three-winged bird.

Callen smiled and made sure to transfer it from his pocket to his duffel bag before the end of the case.

Hetty hadn't even needed words to remind him that he carried his home with him, not because he lived out of a bag stashed under a desk in the office, but because it was where his heart lay.

Callen couldn't do origami, but he drew a crude picture of a hermit crab and left it in the pocket of Hetty's sweater that night.

 _My home does move with me – because you lent me a shell._


	5. S1E5 Killshot

Season 1, Episode 5: Killshot

* * *

Hetty was staying late, typing furiously and, if Callen was any judge, in another language. There was something to the cadence of her typing that didn't feel like the same way she wrote in English. But he couldn't pin down which language just from listening across a room.

Callen was certain she could have said, though, if their positions were reversed and she was listening to him instead. It was just one of the things that made Hetty both terrifying and incomparable.

"Yes, Mister Callen?" she called over, interrupting his thinking with her uncanny-as-usual timing.

G smirked. "So, Russian or Greek?" he yelled back.

"Romanian." Hetty looked up over the laptop. "If you wish to speak to me, by all means, my office is available. But I will not shout at you across the floor."

He sighed and pushed up from his own computer. Even though Hetty's office had no walls, there was something warm and welcoming about her space that was unique in the whole building.

Hetty shut her laptop and regarded him as he sat down. "Something on your mind, Mister Callen?"

"Just...after today, I was wondering."

She raised an eyebrow and shut her laptop to give him her full attention. "Yes? I've rarely known you to be so circumspect with your questions, my boy."

It took everything G had not to flinch when she called him that. Not in discomfort, never that, but for fear of giving too much away.

"Well, with Director Vance and Kai…" He looked closely at her. "Are there...any old opponents I ought to know about from _your_ past? People who might come calling someday?"

Hetty gave him a smug, tiny smile. "More than I can recall, Mister Callen, assuming they are still alive." She sat back and let out a breath. "However, I believe many of them will have already fallen to the shadows of the past by now."

Callen was _not_ comforted. "But you would tell me, wouldn't you? If there was someone gunning for you?"

"In our line of work, one develops many enemies. You know that. Sometimes those enemies turn into allies later on in life, or even acquaintances. But never friends. Those who stand on opposite sides of the wall will always be divided in the end. And though our world has changed, and certain walls have fallen, there are still many unclaimed debts that haunt us all."

She hadn't actually answered the question, and he knew that was answer enough. G forced his apprehension down and made a passable attempt at humor. "Well, if you're ever going to go all Ahab on a white whale somewhere, just let me know about it, okay?"

"And you would be my Ishmael, is that it?" she returned. "Following me into my battle, but maintaining an open mind while I hunted my prey?"

"Something like that."

"Hmm." She folded her hands. "Then, Mister Callen, I hope to thoroughly disappoint you."

"Oh?"

"Yes, of course." Hetty's smile went dark and sharp for a moment so quick maybe no one but G, who had known her so long would have spotted it. "Even if I did embark upon such a quest, you can be certain I would not endanger my ship or my crew to do so. Your story as Ishmael would start and end with 'and she sailed into the horizon to battle her demons alone.'"

Callen opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off with a gesture.

"And that is how it will be, Mister Callen. I trust you will obey me if or when such a time arrives. Now, you have paperwork to finish and so do I." Hetty reopened her laptop, effectively ending the conversation.

G rose and returned to his own computer, glancing over his shoulder just once.

 _Not a chance in hell, Hetty. You disappear on a crusade, I'll be right behind you. Somebody comes after you, they're going to have to go through me._

And at her desk, Hetty knew quite well what he was thinking.

She hid a smile.

 _And you, Mister Callen, underestimate my willingness to do whatever is necessary. I know you would wish to protect me._

 _But it is not myself who needs protecting, if such a time truly comes._

 _And they will have to go through me to get to you._


	6. S1E6 Keepin It Real

Season 1, Episode 6: Keepin' It Real

* * *

Hetty walked into the boathouse only forty seconds after Secret Service Agent Natalie Giordano left. G had turned off a few lights, but was staring at the table in front of the big screen.

"Expecting someone?" she asked him.

"Not exactly."

"I see." Hetty didn't bother to ask him what he was remembering – she knew, of course. She cleared her throat and moved to stand next to him so they could both look at their dark reflections in the screen. "I haven't had a chance to speak to you about your interrogation of Alex Walder."

G nodded.

"I won't ask you the obvious question."

No, G knew that she wouldn't. _Did that really happen?_ She didn't have to ask.

Of all the lies Callen told in his life about himself, about his job, about his feelings, he very rarely lied about his past if he spoke of it at all. His past was the only thing he had carried with him through dozens of foster homes and an uncaring world. Sometimes it was the only thing about him that was true.

"I only want to know what happened to that man."

Callen had heard her speak with more warmth in her tone about foreign dictators and assassins. But, then, he knew that she was protective of children generally, and of himself in particular. A foster father who had been a threat to a child while in his care, well – Hetty would probably prefer the company of members of the Russian mafia to such a person.

He smirked. "Going to go hunt him down for me, Hetty?"

"I was thinking about it." And while there was plausible deniability in her humor, in the wry look of her eyes, there was a steely cold seriousness, too.

He faced her, tipping his head. "If I told you he was still alive and still beating foster kids, would you really go after him?"

She gave him a sideways look. "The better question would be, wouldn't you?" she returned.

"That wouldn't exactly be legal." He considered. "Or fair."

"Neither legality nor fairness always apply in our line of work, Mister Callen."

He huffed. "No, Hetty. I don't have to go after him, and neither do you. He's dead. He died when he got drunk and drove his car into the side of a truck on the 101 not long after I left."

"Good."

She didn't seem inclined to say anything else, but she also didn't move. It was an old trick, one G knew very well, one that worked on everybody, himself included, even when they knew it was coming. Hetty had a way of simply standing quietly, relaxed, hands folded behind her back, and waiting – and people would speak. Whatever was on their mind, whatever they had no intention of voicing aloud, it came out when Hetty simply offered a silence to be filled.

"About that...nature versus nurture thing," he said finally.

"Ah." She nodded.

"We both know I…"

"Mister Callen." She looked into his face with the same firm look she gave people when she was about to tell them an undeniable truth, or a piece of enigmatic wisdom. "While I cannot say anything about the 'nature' side of the argument regarding yourself, I am very aware of the 'nurture.'"

"No kidding. You were there." He smiled. Sometimes he'd thought Hetty was going to 'nurture' him into an early grave; but without her teaching, her relentless pursuit of excellence, G knew without doubt that he would have been dead long ago. She'd driven him to an almost superhuman point of mastery, and he owed it, and her, his life.

"Not for as long as I'd have liked," she said, shaking her head. "But what I can tell you, with the experience of many years in the field and watching your own career, is that you have nothing to worry about. You are, as you say, a natural. The nurture you gained at my side is nothing to what comes to you by your own instincts and insight."

Something tight in G's chest relaxed and he settled into a joking tone. "So, what you're saying is that I'm a product of both nature _and_ nurture."

She met his humor with her own. "The perfect specimen. Except for your choice in attire, of course."

"Well, you can hardly blame me for that." And he loved that he could see the delight dancing in her eyes that she never showed to anyone but himself.

"Oh?"

"It's wouldn't be right for me to surpass you in _everything_ , would it?" G gave a broad smile. "I have to leave you something to hold over me."

Hetty's face twisted into an expression that usually had junior agents running for their lives, and it was only the years between them that told G she was still playing with him, and was not, in fact, about to shoot him where he stood.

"Is that so?" She lifted her chin and regarded him with such severity he almost started to giggle on the spot.

"Apparently." He could barely keep the glee out of his voice.

"Then you won't mind if I order you to prove your superiority in any task I might name?"

"Bring it on."

"Good. Then pack your bag. You're not sleeping on a couch tonight."

And Callen's glee vanished. He blinked, staring at her. "Is this...did you just manipulate me into having to come sleep at your place instead of the office?"

"Apparently, yes. Now, come, Mister Callen. I fully intend to test your skills at preparing _duck l'orange_ tonight, and in pairing it with the correct wine." She gestured to him to precede her out of the boathouse.

"Oh, come on." He fell into step with her. "Sam's the wine guy. Can't you test him?"

"One never knows what skills one might need to counterfeit in the field," she said. "Oh, and incidentally?"

"Yes?"

She gave him a wicked grin. "You still have a lot to learn if I can entrap you so easily."

He let out a breath and nodded, conceding the point and her victory.

And, privately, hoped he would never truly surpass her in that. Hetty was the only person in the world G wanted to be able to play him like a fiddle, and he would miss it if she couldn't someday.

But apparently, that was not happening any time soon.


	7. S1E7 Pushback

Season 1, Episode 7: Pushback

* * *

As Callen sat in Alina Rostoff's house, on the bed that had been his for the only good three months to either side of a life in hell, his phone vibrated.

It was a text from Hetty, which said only, "Mister Callen?"

G closed his eyes. Hetty hadn't asked if he was okay. She hadn't asked if he needed anything. She hadn't even asked him how he felt.

She simply opened with a question and let him answer.

Callen typed out a response. "It's just the same as it was."

Then he deleted it.

He tried, "How did you know?"

Then he deleted that, too.

Finally, he typed "Yeah" and sent it before he could think too hard about it.

Hetty would understand.

A moment later, she replied. "Dovecote, 20:00."

G nodded. Of course Hetty would use his return to one of the few homes he'd ever had – instead of places he'd lived which could never be home – to call him back to hers as well.

But right now, he found he didn't want to be alone on a couch. He didn't even want to be on Sam's couch, the last of the surrogate homes he kept even now.

 _Besides_ , he thought, _I owe her one for not letting Nate take me off the case_.

Still thinking of Alina, he typed and sent a reply. "Spaseeba."

He could almost hear it in her little-girl voice. " _Say it right. Spa_ _ **seeba**_ _. It means t'ank you._ "

G shut his eyes and just breathed the scent of the house around him. He was already thinking in Russian again. By the time he got to Dovecote, he'd be speaking it as if he'd never spoken anything else.

And Hetty, who always understood him, who always heard what he meant besides what he said, would speak it back to him. She would know why, and what it meant, and she would share with him the gift of the language that was almost all he had left of his little sister.

Hetty's response appeared and he could not help but smile.

"Pazhalooysta."


	8. S1E8 Ambush

Sorry this is a day late! When I don't work on Mondays, I tend to forget to do everything else that happens on Mondays.

Thanks again for the support and interest and welcome from you folks. I really appreciate all you readers in this new-to-me fandom!

Next week we'll have a few which are more serious. This week, things were a little bit more on the light side.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 1, Episode 8: Ambush

* * *

Callen only woke briefly when Sam left, locking the office door behind him, and allowed himself to drift back to sleep now that the building was truly empty. He didn't miss that his partner had spread the blanket from the couch over him, and, in his half-awake state, couldn't decide if he was going to tease Sam about it in the morning or not.

He woke completely later when a small hand landed on his shoulder.

Any other hand in the world would have Callen feigning sleep while he assessed the situation.

This hand, however, had woken him too many times and he trusted it implicitly.

"Hetty," he said before he opened his eyes.

She stood beside him, still dressed for Washington, though it must have been past the middle of the night and onto way too early in the morning.

For one instant, G could see the vulnerability in her, the memory of the agent she had lost and the two agents she could have lost today.

He swallowed. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was going in, but I'm not sorry for doing it."

She nodded and some of the memory retreated from her eyes. "I know. I wouldn't expect you to be. But never again, Mister Callen. Never again."

G closed his eyes. "I can't promise that and you know it."

"Yes, I suppose I do." She let out a breath and patted his shoulder. "Good night, then."

She turned to go, but Callen rose up on one elbow. "Hetty."

She paused.

"Thank you." He shrugged. "You saved us from 2,700 miles away today. That's a new record."

Hetty chuckled. "Are we not counting St Petersburg anymore?"

"Hey, I thought we agreed not to mention that one again," he replied, pretending to be annoyed.

But Hetty was smiling, and that was what mattered. "You agreed. I did not." She looked back at him, fond and proud in her hidden way. "Sleep well, Mister Callen."

G let himself slide back to the couch and close his eyes, not missing that Hetty was settling at her desk rather than leaving the office once more. "Thank you," he said again quietly.

And if the room had been anything but perfectly still, he would have missed her murmured answer as he fell asleep once more.

"Every time."


	9. S1E9 Random on Purpose

Season 1, Episode 9: Random on Purpose

* * *

"You row pretty good."

"Thanks." She smiled. "So, all that command chain fuzziness resolved, then?"

G huffed a laugh. "Something like that. Nothing really changes, right? I run the team, and you take care of everything else."

"Oh, some things change," Hetty said. "And not just your desk configuration."

"How so?"

"There was a time you didn't notice."

Callen nodded and smirked. "You really think there was ever a time I didn't know you were running the world behind my back?"

"Oh, Mister Callen." Hetty was grinning. "I think you still don't know how much of the world I could run if I so desired."

"But you're not," he pointed out. "You're here, being an Operations Manager of an OSP office in LA. You could be doing...anything. But you're here." It was a question he had meant to ask since her appearance after he got shot, and only now did he dare. "Why?"

Hetty straightened up and moved past him towards the Ops center. She patted him on the arm as she went.

"If you don't know the answer to that by now, there's no point in my telling you. Now, go help your team with their paperwork."

Callen shook his head as Hetty disappeared into Abby's rather vociferous discussion with her own team.

"I will figure it out eventually!" he called after her.

"Paperwork!" she called back.

G sighed and went to rejoin his team at their new desks.


	10. S1E10 Brimstone

Season 1, Episode 10: Brimstone

* * *

With the scotch mellowing the others, Callen turned back to the toys in the palm tree pot. He was certain they hadn't been anywhere in the building earlier.

He hadn't thought they were still anywhere at all, really.

"Familiar?" Hetty asked.

G glanced up to make sure Sam and Kensi were still across the office – apparently they were either competitively cleaning their desks or gearing up for an arm-wrestling competition.

He looked at Hetty, who appeared to be uncommonly smug.

"Where'd these even come from?" he asked. He ran a hand over the shark, marveling at how small it seemed now.

"Nothing ever goes to waste, Mister Callen," she said. "The best in our business hold onto even the most insignificant things for that rainy day when they may become useful."

G shook his head. "I never even…"

"They were a little young for you at the time." Hetty nodded. "But they made your room look more like a child's room that someone could live in, not just a spare bed in an unfamiliar place."

"Did you seriously buy used toys to make me comfortable in that room, and then keep them all this time?"

"Apparently."

He snorted. "I don't really need a plastic shark and an old school bus to make me feel safe anymore, Hetty."

"No, and you didn't then, either," she replied. "It's all window dressing, Mister Callen. All of it. You should know that by now."

And he did. The shark, the toys, they hadn't been for him to play with when he began living with Hetty; they had been a subtle move in a long game of showing him that he could have roots with her, that his past (or hers, for that matter) was up on a shelf, dusty and unnecessary, with the future spread out before them. And now, here they were again, those same toys that had smiled down from a bookcase that first night in Hetty's care.

But this time, they stood for a different promise.

Not of a future – he didn't need that vow now. Callen was Hetty's for the rest of his life and neither of them needed say a word about it.

Now, the toys were a reminder that safe places existed, and that old secrets never really died.

And that Hetty was still the constant in it all.

"Nate's doing psychological assessments again, isn't he?" Callen asked.

She smiled, pleased. "You'll be fine."

Because she could bring these toys here, and Nate would never know the connection that they hid. She could remind G that it was in the details that trust was created and a story was set.

Hetty was playing a dangerous game again. If Nate knew – if anybody knew – that they shared a past, Callen or Hetty would be reassigned to a different unit. And Nate was one of the people sharp enough to catch them, to see something G didn't want seen, and to be able to piece it together.

Apparently, the presence of the shark meant Hetty truly wasn't worried about it.

"Kind of a mixed message, isn't it? Trust your team, make this a home, but keep up the lie?"

She nodded. "The best messages usually are mixed, dear."

And she went to go stop the arm wrestling before somebody's outbox ended up on the floor.

G shook his head, unable to keep the smile off his face.

He was _never_ going to fully understand that woman.


	11. S1E11 Breach

Sorry for missing yesterday! It was a friend's birthday and things ran late.

This batch is half and half, dark and light. That's less my doing and more the nature of the episodes themselves.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 1, Episode 11: Breach

* * *

"Nate is terrified of you, you know."

Hetty peered at him. "Is there something about this particular Rembrandt that reminds you of him? Other than the ears, perhaps."

G snorted and had to cover the sound with a cough as half the patrons in the art gallery turned to look at him.

"Actually, it's the jacket."

"I hardly think they called such sophisticated clothing a 'jacket,' Mister Callen." She considered the painting. "However, I see your point. I really must accidentally destroy approximately half of his wardrobe. Covertly, of course."

"I will pretend I never heard anything like that from you."

"That would be wise, or I should be forced to deny you to your face."

G offered her his elbow again and she took it. They wandered from the Nate jacket painting to the next, weaving through the modest crowd at the exhibit.

"But, really. Is there a reason you go out of your way to scare Nate?"

"Of course there is."

Callen waited for several seconds of silence before asking, "And are you going to tell me?"

"I wasn't planning on it, no."

G stared at the current work of art without really seeing it, thinking. "Sam used to do that to Dom, as a way to toughen him up. Make him ready to be in the field."

"I assure you, that is not what I am doing." Hetty tugged his arm, pulling towards another painting.

"No." G looked at her, the gallery disappearing around him. "You're...trying to make it easier for him to stand up to us, aren't you?"

"Whatever gave you that impression?" She didn't even bother to look at him.

"It's basic transference. You upset Nate, but he can't challenge you directly, so he challenges me or Sam or Kensi instead. And eventually, he will be able to challenge you."

Hetty smiled. "Not just me, Mister Callen."

"Who, then? Director Vance? SecNav?"

Now she gave him a proud, measuring look. "If necessary."

"So...you didn't just send him on a vacation because he's been working too hard. You did it so he would have to go out into the world and interact with strangers. So he could practice standing up to them, too." G blinked at her. "You're getting him ready to be an agent."

"Not yet," she said, shaking her head. "Not for a while. But it isn't training that Nate needs. It's confidence. And practice standing up without flinching under enemy fire."

"You're hardly an enemy, Hetty."

"And that is why it won't be any time soon that we send Nate out anywhere he might be in danger." She patted his hand. "But I'm pleased you were worried."

"I wasn't worried." Even G knew he retreated from that one too quickly, and Hetty just shook her head at him.

"He's a member of your team. You're supposed to be worried. But not right now. Today is just the art of Rembrandt and the sunshine and finding a few more roses to smell."

"So," he smirked, "does that mean you're not going to be my wingman?"

"Mister Callen." She looked at him reprovingly. "If you truly desired my help, I could get you any girl you wanted of the current selection and we both know it. Now stop being so silly and move along. The next gallery is waiting and I haven't got all day."

G laughed. It was true that he was getting all sorts of appreciative looks from young women, many of whom glanced to Hetty and back to himself and probably assumed something about a dutiful son and how sweet and considerate he was. If he really wanted to make a connection tonight, he had no doubt he could manage it even without Hetty's intervention.

But right then, G realized he wanted nothing more than to go look at more paintings with Hetty.

"Let's see if we can find one that looks like Eric."


	12. S1E12 Past Lives

Season 1, Episode 12: Past Lives

* * *

Sam was taking a turn singing something from the hip-hop section of the karaoke catalogue, and, if G were honest, he was killing it. The whole room was rocking along with the beat, Kensi and Eric were dancing in their seats, and Nate was looking increasingly flustered about having to sing next.

He'd be doubly flustered when he found out Callen had paid the karaoke guy $20 to swap whatever Nate picked for something from the Beach Boys.

Callen leaned over to where Hetty was watching the proceedings with the same calm air of control she had presiding over the office.

"Did you know?" he asked quietly. "That Michael wasn't…?"

"Yes, Mister Callen. I knew."

"Were you going to tell me?"

"Only if it became necessary." She gave him a tiny shrug. "I had faith that your honesty would be sufficient. Either that or your charm, which never seems to fail you, though I can't say why."

G rocked back in mock hurt. "Hetty! Now, that's just cruel!"

"Perhaps." She saluted him with her drink. "But nonetheless, all is well again, I assume?"

He let out a breath as Sam finished, bowing to applause. "Yeah. It's all good."

The karaoke guy waved Nate forward and handed him the mic, not so much as winking at Callen as he did so.

The screen behind Nate lit up bright blue with the title "California Girls."

Kensi practically exploded laughing. Sam and Eric high-fived and both looked back at G who waved them off, watching Nate try to talk to the karaoke guy before the song got going.

"Nate!" Hetty called. "You should always expect the unexpected! Now sing!"

And Nate, red-faced and glaring a promise of murder and extra debriefings at Callen, surrendered.

Though he was mostly drowned out by Sam's guffawing and Eric yelling additional lines and inserts throughout the track and Kensi threatening them both if they kept up the commentary. On the plus side, it was getting them a lot of attention from the ladies at the next table.

Sometime in the middle of what had become an inadvertent singalong, Hetty leaned over to Callen. "The thing is, so much of what we do isn't real. But it can be real, if we choose to make it so. Someday, you might have to make a choice. I hope, when that day comes, you're ready."

Callen let out a breath. "I'm sure if that day comes, you won't let me just walk away."

"Oh, no, Mister Callen. It's always been your decision. All of it from the start. All this illusion, it's yours to maintain or fold."

"Yeah." He sighed. "But the illusion got me this far. So I'm okay with it for now."

She smiled at him. "As am I."

Nate finished and abandoned the stage as quickly as possible, going straight for his drink and trying desperately to avoid eye-contact with anyone else. Callen was moving to go slap him on the shoulder (and to pay the karaoke guy again to program Nate with Backstreet Boys for round two) when Hetty passed him, climbing up to the stage.

"I dedicate this song," she said, not into the mic, but just so they could hear, "to a person whose trust I find most precious."

Callen couldn't help but feel warm through every note of Hetty's rendition of "It's Only a Paper Moon."


	13. S1E13 Missing

Season 1, Episode 13: Missing

* * *

Callen posted the alert about Dom to the Interpol archive and seriously considered throwing his computer, the desk, maybe everything in range across the room.

Someone had taken Dom. _Taken_ him, and they had lost him.

Of all the losses in his career, the sacrifices he'd made, the people he'd seen killed, none of it compared to this. It felt like it woke up an old pain in his heart, one that lived in the shadow of memory long gone. He'd heard once that the reason grief was so powerful an emotion was that the experience of grief triggered all past memory of grief in the human brain, so every loss was its own sorrow on top of every loss that had come before.

Right now, Callen believed it. He had never been so close to drowning.

Hetty appeared in his peripheral vision, regarding him with eyes he couldn't read for once. Then she moved back to her desk.

A moment later, Sam came down from his punching bag, sweating and breathing heavily. Sam's eyes were haunted.

G would have taken five bullets again to take that look out of Sam's eyes, Hetty's eyes.

"Come on, G." Sam sounded as though the words hurt to say. "Let's go."

G couldn't place it. He knew he was probably staring like an idiot at his partner, and he couldn't bother to care.

"You're coming home with me tonight. Sleeping where…"

Callen heard the rest. _Where I can keep an eye on you. Where I know you're safe._

He leaned around Sam. Hetty was seated at her desk, but she was watching him closely. She gave him a nod.

And he understood.

" _We all deal with things in our own way, don't we?_ "

Right now, he needed to find a way to deal, and Sam needed to take care of someone...and maybe Hetty needed to put G somewhere she knew he would be protected so she could do whatever it was she did; and whatever it was, G knew she would do it alone. This was a tiny butterfly bandage on a gaping wound, but it was all she could offer him, all she could give either of them.

None of them could make this right. But they had to keep going.

Callen gulped and nodded. He looked up into Sam's anguished expression. "Okay. Thanks, Sam."

Sam nodded. He noticed that Sam didn't move more than a few inches from his side while he grabbed his things. That Sam was on full alert, looking for threats behind the coffee makers and inside the lockers and in the shadows crossing the bullpen.

And G realized he would feel better if he had something he could protect right now, too. Some _one_ he could protect.

Hetty didn't need him as much as Sam did.

Callen met her eyes as they passed in silence. He returned her nod.

 _I'll look out for him._

He could read her answer in every line of her face.

 _Take care of yourself, too. You're a survivor. I'm trusting you to survive._

G put her trust into his heart and held it there, a weight and a reassurance all at once, and vowed to do just that. If the only thing he could do for his team now was to survive, to be strong, to protect them, to lead – then he would not let them down.

But even he knew he couldn't save them from the loss of Dom.


	14. S1E14 LD50

Season 1, Episode 14: LD50

* * *

Thinking of his conversation with Hetty over tea, G threw back the blanket from the couch and pushed himself up to a sitting position. Everyone was gone, and he should have been sleeping – instincts about resting when he could were still strong, of course – but something was bothering him.

" _So, when the time comes, as you put it, there's something you can do. You can smother me with a pillow_."

Cold bile dumped into his stomach at the very thought.

But G Callen owed Hetty literally everything. And he could imagine nothing worse for himself, either, than betraying what he had bled and killed for. If it was him, if his mind was going, he would ask for the same. He would beg anyone he could trust to keep him from committing treason at the end.

He ambled over to Hetty's office.

There was a piece of paper on her desk that hadn't been there before.

"I meant every word."

G's hand started to shake as he plucked a pen from Hetty's desk.

It was dark – that must be the reason his handwriting was so uncertain as he wrote in the blank space below her pristine, steady script.

"I promise."

The instant he finished writing the words, he felt cold and shaky, almost like he was going into shock.

 _I wonder what Nate would make of that._

Callen decided he didn't really need to sleep after all, and took himself off to the gym.

Four hours of hard work later, he was too tired even to crawl back to his couch to sleep. He managed to shower and get dressed in his spare set of workout clothes off before he laid down on his stomach on a bench in the locker room and fell asleep.

"Ahem."

G blinked, sore, and only avoided rolling off the bench to crash on the floor by a sudden steadying hand on his side. He flopped his head over, though he didn't need to see to know who had woken him.

"Hetty?"

The lines of her favorite tan suit were crisp and even. "As a general rule, I admire your ability to sleep anywhere, Mister Callen, but I believe this may be pushing it."

He was stiff and uncomfortable and his muscles were screaming, but the only thing he managed to say was, "Are you really supposed to be in here?"

She gave him a pitying look over her glasses. "This is _my_ building, Mister Callen. I can be wherever I please. It's hardly the first men's room I've set foot in."

He couldn't come up with a good response for that. He managed to push himself up and get to his feet without losing too much dignity, and he was grateful he'd actually slipped back into his sweatpants – he did not have the brain power to worry about dropping a towel on top of everything else.

"Mister Callen." Hetty's hands were loose at her sides, and she looked as put together as ever, but there was something in her eyes he didn't recognize. "I believe neither one of us slept particularly well last night."

"What was your first clue?"

She let that slide. "I don't know if it will ease your mind any, but nonetheless."

She held out a hand.

G accepted it, sensing the gravity of the situation in her grip on his fingers.

"Should it be needed, I would thank you to make my end painless and without compromising national security. It is not an easy thing I ask of you." She never looked away from him, but she did pause to swallow. "It is something I ask only because there are precious few others I could trust with such an act."

He felt like the breath had been taken from his very chest. "I...I know."

"But I give you my word." And the steel was back in her eyes. "If I have any say over it, I will do the job for you myself. Not out of despair, but because I never wish to put you in that position. However, it is always wise to have contingencies in place."

Callen shut his eyes and squeezed her hand too tight. He just couldn't stand her casual comfort with the entire topic. Even if it made sense. Even if it was logical. He just couldn't. "Don't. Please." He almost choked on the words. "I...I would rather…"

"Rather place your sword on my throat than find me having done so myself?" Her words were soft and very warm. "Thank you, my boy. But still. Let an old woman have her dignity and her right to choose, even at the end."

G forced himself to open his eyes. "But...if you can't choose anymore…"

"Then I ask you to keep your promise, Mister Callen."

G just didn't know how it was so easy for her to say, so easy for her to ask of him. Her gaze was steady and her grip unwavering.

She was so much stronger than he would ever be.

All he could do was nod.

Hetty tugged on his hand and Callen bent down. To his surprise, she gripped his shoulder and gave him a half-hug.

"You are a braver man than you know, G Callen. And I am so very proud of you."

G closed his eyes and leaned his forehead on her shoulder. "Don't...don't let it happen any time soon. Okay, Hetty?"

"Oh, Mister Callen. Have no fear. You've many more years to wish to strangle me before it becomes a risk." And she put an arm around his head.

Callen could count the number of times she had actually held him in her arms off the top of his head. Even fewer was the number of times he had held her back.

This morning, with pre-dawn light filtering in the smoky windows above, he wrapped his arms around her and held on as if he would never let go.

He couldn't tell her he would never be ready for such a thing to happen.

He couldn't tell her he would never forgive himself if he had to do it, that he might not be able to keep from eating his gun if it came to that.

He couldn't tell her a word about the roiling feelings swamping his heart.

Hetty held him, and he knew she heard it all anyway.


	15. S1E15 The Bank Job

Hey all.

I had a tough weekend, so I don't yet have the energy to reply to all your fabulous comments as you deserve. So I'll have to catch up later this week or next Monday. Sorry for that. But here are the next 3 chapters.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 1, Episode 15: The Bank Job

* * *

Between the halves of the Lakers-Knicks game, Callen pulled out his phone while Sam went for more beer to send a text.

"You don't have a warehouse."

Within a minute, the response came back. "Are you certain about that?"

G laughed and sent back, "Yeah. I'm sure."

His phone rang. The arena was noisy, but he could still hear the wry amusement in her voice clearly.

"You don't know actually everything about me, Mister Callen."

"No, but I know your habits. And your places."

"Not all of them."

He sighed. She was probably right. He might go his entire life and dedicate it to nothing but unraveling hers, and it still might not be enough.

However, that was no reason to admit defeat.

"Well, it's easier on us both if you just tell me. Otherwise, I'm just going to have to go looking."

He could almost hear her scowl. "Ten o'clock tomorrow morning, then, Mister Callen. I expect you to buy lunch, and I do hope your car has been cleaned recently."

He smiled. "How recently is recently?"

"Apparently not recently enough. Car cleaned, and no more whining from you when I find out your secrets in return."

"You know I can't promise that."

"Good night, Mister Callen." And she hung up.

Sam reappeared with a pair of drinks and a huge pile of nachos, somehow managing to carry it all without smearing so much as a drip of cheese on his shirt.

G relieved him of his burden and started in on the nachos while Sam got back into his seat.

"So, after this, wanna check out that new steak joint?"

G shook his head. "Sorry. After the game, I've got to pack it in for an early night. Apparently I'm cleaning my car for a morning date with Hetty."

Sam's eyes went comically wide. "What kind of special punishment did you get, and what exactly did you do to deserve it?"

"Oh, you know." G sat back as the arena started to settle for the second half. "Poking my nose into classified business. The usual."

"Someday she's gonna shoot you, and I'm not going to do a thing to stop her," Sam told him.

Callen laughed. "If she does, I guarantee I'll deserve it."


	16. S1E16 Chinatown

Season 1, Episode 16: Chinatown

* * *

The day after the Calvin Lee case, G dropped a fortune cookie on Hetty's desk. In spite of the fact that he knew how much she detested the things.

"Dry, plasticky, flavorless, egg-carton dough," she said with disgust the first morning. She didn't even rip open the package holding the offensive cookie; instead, she smashed it with the heel of her hand and threw it away.

The second morning, she swore in Russian before crushing it under her boot.

The third, she threw it directly at Callen's head and glared at him for the entire day's briefing.

"What does Hetty have against fortune cookies?" Eric asked afterwards. "I mean, they're not the finest of desserts, but they have that nice...blandness after a meal of Chinese food."

"They're not really Chinese," Sam pointed out. "They're an American invention. It's not even cultural appropriation, since they were never cultural to begin with."

"I kinda like them," Kensi said. "Though you can't necessarily tell the difference between the cookie and the paper inside."

Nate looked sideways at Callen. "Why do you keep giving them to Hetty?"

He just shrugged. "Seems like the thing to do."

The fourth morning, Hetty marched it over to where G sat at his desk, waiting with an anticipatory grin. She clapped her hands together, smashing the cookie between them, and dropped it, crumbs spilling out of the popped bag, into his lap.

"Give it up, man." Sam shook his head when she was gone. "Or she's going to do something awful, and I don't want to pick up the pieces when you find out what."

On Friday, the fifth morning of what we becoming known around the office as The Fortune Cookie Stalemate (Eric had come up with it, thought it a delightful pun, and nobody with sense said it within Hetty's hearing), G carried the last cookie to her himself.

"I know, I know." He held up his hands after he set it down on her desk while she glared murder at him. "But...just this once."

Still glaring, she picked it up. "Oh, very well. But only for you, Mister Callen. And I have no intention of eating the awful thing."

"Wouldn't expect you to."

Hetty opened the package and snapped the cookie in two, pulling out the little paper inside.

She read it aloud. "Your hands heal more wounds than those one can see. Know that many a heart beats more easily for your efforts."

She blinked.

"Mister Callen...that's lovely."

He gave a shrug. "Just wanted to thank you for patching me up the other night. That's all."

"Well." She smiled at him. "You're welcome. And I'm sorry for treating your gift so poorly."

"You're forgiven."

Callen made his way back to his desk, smiling.

Hetty was also smiling as she threw the cookie and wrapper away. She was about to place the fortune in her desk when she noticed writing on the other side.

It said, "The longest journey begins with a single step. However, in your case, it might take two or three."

" _MISTER CALLEN, COME HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT!"_

Every single person in the office ran for their lives.


	17. S1E17 Full Throttle

Season 1, Episode 17: Full Throttle

* * *

G had to give the woman credit. "Funny Traffic School" was the perfect revenge for the thing with the fortune cookie. That took deviousness and a truly cruel sense of humor.

But getting Eric to exchange his scores with someone else to ensure he failed? That was just unfair.

Not to mention annoying.

G was half-tempted to drop the whole alias with the bad driving record and come up with a new one rather than fix the mess, but that would also mean admitting defeat. And while he was willing to surrender when it was tactically necessary or strategically sound, giving in to Hetty never ended well.

However, he _had_ been trained by the best.

 _When an enemy is expecting a frontal attack, do anything but._

And the house called Briar Patch had a riding lawnmower.

The next morning, Callen didn't even wait for Hetty to call him into her office. He went straight there and sat himself in the chair. She was typing on her laptop, and pretended to ignore him.

"Come on," he said at last. "We good?"

"Mister Callen, if you thought that your...activities...would induce me to think better of your driving skills, you are sorely mistaken."

He laughed. "I'd like to see anybody do that in a car."

"I'd like to see you do something in a car that doesn't trigger an LAPD traffic investigation," she shot back.

"Eric can fix this in five minutes. Just...give him the word and let me get back to focusing on my actual job." G kept the desperation out of his voice, but she knew how to listen it anyway.

Hetty peered at him over the laptop screen in a way that made G feel a bit like a bug she was considering squashing.

"Under one condition."

"Anything." At this point, Callen would pretty much agree to whatever Hetty asked if it meant he could stop having to deal with this traffic stuff and go back to the way things were supposed to be. And, while could still burn the alias if he had to, he really didn't want to. Steven Walinski had a whole reputation built up that made Thursday nights way more interesting any time he wasn't working a case.

"You must undo that dreadful thing you did last night in its entirety. And I want you to show the same care and consideration to every other relevant location before next week."

Callen sighed. The lawn at Dovecote was huge. And it didn't have a riding lawn mower.

But she'd given him a whole weekend, and she hadn't said he couldn't borrow the one from Briar Patch.

"Deal."

"Also." She finished whatever she had been typing and picked up a scrap of paper, which she handed across to him. "Please review the correct grammatical construction of the future imperfect tense before the next time I have to send you to Croatia. If you are going to make the attempt to plead your case, it will go much better if you do so accurately."

"Thanks, Hetty."

Now he just had to explain to Sam that he wouldn't be coming around this weekend because he had to mow a Morse code pattern out of a lawn.

As he was leaving, he paused. Turned back. "Out of curiosity."

"Yes, Mister Callen?"

"How long did it take you to…?"

"Less time than it took you to pick the lock on the shed, Mister Callen. Though the final salutation was much appreciated, if inexpertly executed."

He smiled. "Don't ever change, Hetty."

"Ne brinite."

"Me? Worry about you? Never."

And they both knew the truth well enough to let this lie stand.


	18. S1E18 Blood Brothers

So, next week will be the end of season 1. Lots of ground to cover between now and then, though. The last episode in this week's arc is Found, and one of my early favorites to write.

The next 2 weeks might be a little odd – I'll be traveling and away from my normal computer. I'll update if and when I can, though. Otherwise, by the first Monday in March, we'll be caught up.

Here we go! Enjoy!

* * *

Season 1, Episode 18: Blood Brothers

* * *

Callen turned in his report on the Gunny Dobbs case a full day early, which was enough to raise red flags all the way to Camp Pendleton. He also had the good sense to run before Hetty could ask him about it, claiming a night off with Sam.

Sam didn't know a thing about it, but he saw the holy glee in his partner's eyes and knew when to get clear before another Hetty explosion.

The office was only just calming down after the Fortune Cookie Stalemate, after all.

"So, what did you do?" Sam asked as they got into the Challenger and Sam pulled away from the building a little too hastily.

"Oh, nothing."

"Come on, G. You gotta tell me."

Callen looked out the window with overt casualness. "Ever find yourself doodling in the margins when you're thinking?"

"No. That's something nine-year-old girls do."

G laughed. "Well, anyway. I forgot to erase it this time and thought she might like it."

"I wish I hadn't give you a ride. Now she's gonna kill me, too."

"She won't kill you, Sam." Callen grinned. "If she kills both of us, that leaves Kensi with no backup except Nate."

"Oh. Good point. Then I promise to come see you in the hospital."

"Deal."

At her desk, Hetty opened the file from Callen almost cautiously. When it came to his sense of humor and impropriety, there was truly no telling what he might do.

On the third page of the report, she found a little drawing.

It took her a moment to figure it out – apparently Mister Callen was no art prodigy. Which she knew, of course. But it was different to see it now than it had been when she had gained access to middle school homework assignments.

And yet, there was something charming in the childish scribble of a triangular body, a too-round head, and heavy glasses. The wings were a bit much, and seemed to sprout directly from a scarf or maybe it was supposed to be a cravat. But the halo was there, almost hidden by the text of the nearest paragraph.

Hetty remembered well what he had said to her.

 _I have a guardian angel. She's tiny, but very tough._

Hetty smiled in spite of herself. "Indeed you do, Mister Callen."

She turned the page to find a repeat of the drawing of the little triangular angel, this time in a field of poppy flowers.

Hetty began to have a sinking feeling.

She turned one more page and let out an aggrieved noise.

The little angel was standing on top of a pile of bodies all marked with the Russian flag on their uniforms. The halo appeared to be dripping, and the wings had changed from some kind of scarf to something more like helicopter blades.

Pulling out her black pen, Hetty carefully redacted the entire scene, then both preceding angels, just in case. Then she redacted a few unimportant lines throughout the document. Now it looked like something she could send to Director Vance and not have to answer too many odd questions.

She added it to her own file, shaking her head.

 _That boy will never truly grow up._

 _Good._


	19. S1E19 Hand-to-Hand

Season 1, Episode 19: Hand-to-Hand

* * *

Callen was staring at his mostly-empty refrigerator when his phone rang.

His adrenaline spiked the instant he saw it was Hetty. She rarely called without texting first – unless it was important. Or bad.

"What's wrong?" he answered, slamming the refrigerator and striding for his jacket. "Do I need to come in hot?"

"Calm down, please, Mister Callen," she said. "This is not an emergency."

That brought him to a full stop in the middle of a half-furnished, barely-lived-in apartment.

"What's going on? You don't call unless something's up. Eric calls."

"Well, this is between you and I. You as team leader, I as your Operations Manager."

The ebbing adrenaline in his system made G sigh. "Couldn't we do this tomorrow?"

"I'm afraid not. I've just had a call from Director Vance. He's given me some rather specific instructions."

"Oh, great."

"Mister Callen, what do you think of Detective Deeks?"

G blinked. "Uh, he's a good operator. And he ran in to help Sam even against guys two weight classes heavier. Kensi's going to kill him if he keeps trying to hit on her, though."

Hetty chuckled. "Do you think you could work with him?"

"Me?"

"It's your team, Mister Callen. Director Vance wants us to have an 'in' at LAPD. I know what I think is best, but if you can't treat Detective Deeks as a full member of your team, there's no point in making the attempt and putting everyone at risk the next time a case goes poorly."

G would have been peering at her if she were in front of him. "Couldn't you just hire him? You don't really need my approval."

"No, I do not. But I do need you to be on board."

Callen huffed a laugh. "You really like this guy, don't you?"

"Let's just say...I think he'll fit in nicely."

He was surprised. That was high praise from Hetty. That alone was enough to make up his mind.

"Okay. I assume I know nothing until it officially happens?"

"That is generally the safest assumption, yes."

He drew in a breath. "Hetty...is this to try to help us deal with Dom?"

"Deal with? No." He could hear the weight in her voice. "But perhaps it will give the team the balance it has lacked without him. And you should know that Mister Deeks has an unusual background for LAPD. He may have his own insights into Dom's case. One never knows what threads could lead us to our missing agent."

"Right."

"Then if you've no other objections, I think I'll go acquire us another team member."

G smiled. "Poor guy has no idea what he's in for, does he?"

"Did any of you?"

"No, not really." Callen shook his head. "Thanks for asking my opinion, though, Hetty. I appreciate it."

"And I appreciate your trust, Mister Callen. I'll see you in the morning."

G ended the call and chuckled. "Can't wait to see what Kensi says about _this_."


	20. S1E20 Fame

Season 1, Episode 20: Fame

* * *

The whole conversation was code, because of course it was.

 _When did G Callen become a blip on your radar?_

They both knew the answer to that was not one that could be spoken in the office. Not and allow them to keep working together without having to answer some questions by Director Vance which, frankly, neither of them cared to address.

When G Callen appeared in Hetty's life was not under discussion.

It was still the issue of Marty Deeks.

 _Kiev_. The mission with the analyst who wanted to be an agent, but was refused because of politics.

Was Deeks someone Hetty couldn't get another way because of something in his past?

 _Houston_. The case had revolved around an unknown heir to a mafia family who could be turned as an asset before falling into the underworld.

Was Deeks connected to someone powerful, or dangerous, and they intended to use that connection?

 _Bogota_. That fiasco had been mainly a cleanup after an agent went on a rampage trying to find and kill the person who murdered their partner in cold blood.

Did Deeks have something in his past that Hetty felt should be revenged, and such access would only come through the opportunities and resources of NCIS?

 _Jersey City._ The job Callen remembered as the one where he lost a bet to a superior and had to complete the entire job with the worst partner the man could find.

Did Hetty get stuck with Deeks because she owed a favor to the LA Chief of Detectives, and it was a convenient way to get rid of him?

Her answer surprised him.

 _Peking._

 _You mean Beijing._

A mission Hetty had undertaken entirely willingly, though every analyst and director who got wind of it told her not to go. A mission that was doomed to fail because it simply could not be done.

And, of course, Hetty had accomplished it flawlessly. It was a legendary op, told in whispered stories and snatched conversations where superiors couldn't hear; it had taken G a decade to learn that it was true, and that it was Hetty.

Actually, neither of those things had surprised him at all.

Callen had one of those as well, a few decades later, in the same city. Apparently Beijing was the destination for the impossible, the unworkable, which turned out to be both critical and exemplary.

It almost made G want to give up being team leader.

 _It was Jersey City, wasn't it?_

It would be so much easier if Hetty had just lost a bet. Whatever Hetty saw in him, whatever she knew about him, this wasn't a move undertaken thoughtlessly or without all the background knowledge necessary.

This was a move she took because it was the only way to success, no matter how difficult.

Callen accepted the cup of tea gratefully. He was going to need it.


	21. S1E21 Found

Season 1, Episode 21: Found

* * *

She knew the instant he entered the house. Not because he was foolish enough to make a sound, but because she could feel the very shift in the air he brought with him.

How exactly he always knew which house she was using when, she'd never truly identified. Perhaps it was just another of his inborn gifts, the things that made him the finest agent she had ever known.

Hetty knew she should go to him. She should unwrap from the comforter pulled from her bed, stand strong and steady, and be what he needed again. As she always did. As she had sworn she always would.

She would be there to support and watch over G Callen to the end.

But today she had failed him.

Today, her agents had been required to watch Dom Vail be carted away under a sheet. Blood-soaked, broken, grieving, they had been forced to call Director Vance, to explain the situation.

Bless Leon for all time – he took over from there. He directed the authorities, managed the arrangements, and even offered to speak to Dom's parents directly. He did all the things Hetty should have done herself, but she was not there.

Hetty had watched her agent die on Eric's screens, and she had abandoned her post.

 _Treason_ , her heart whispered. Not to country, but to the people who were hers.

The only mysterious thing was that it had taken Callen so long to come find her.

Now she heard his step on the stair. He could move as soundlessly as the night if he wished, but he was wise enough to know when not to rouse her instincts. To sneak up on a person whose life had been so regularly in danger was not a way to ensure one remained free from bullet holes. But there was something in his step…

Ah. He had changed. The pants sounded like sweatpants, not jeans, so they were not his own.

Sam.

Of course.

As the team leader he was, he had seen to Sam. He had probably even sent Nate to Kensi and gotten Eric settled as well. He had looked to the pains of everyone but himself.

And he was still doing it.

Oh, she ached for his powerful heart. A man who could live through 37 foster homes and countless cold institutions, who could be beaten and starved, left without affection, who could be treated worse than a dog by the people who were supposed to care for him – how he could still love so very much, how he could still care so very deeply, it was a mystery that would never be solved. All of her agents were full of love – it was part of what made them special and set them apart.

And now their hearts were broken.

She should put on her proud face and open her door to the man who was waiting outside it. She should go and support him as he had supported so many others.

But she had never felt so very _tired_.

"Hetty?"

His voice was low and soft, and she could hear the mix of the boy he had been and the man he had become in its anguished tones. He was in such pain himself, but he was still so worried for her.

She couldn't leave him with no answer.

"I'm...I'm all right."

He made a sound that was no laugh. "No, you're not. Please?"

She closed her eyes.

He must have taken her silence for permission, for he opened the door.

The pants didn't fit him well at all, and the shirt was one of Sam's and hung off his shoulders oddly. His skin looked pink, as if he had stood under scalding water, scrubbing and scrubbing until the blood fell away.

But, in their business, it never truly did.

She meant to say something to him, something profound, something meaningful. She extended a hand to him and opened her mouth, hoping the words would come to her by some miracle and she could be what he needed once more, could be what he _deserved_.

All that came out was a low, wordless, sad sound.

In an instant, he was beside her chair, kneeling at her feet as if she were a queen. But his arms were around her and his head was pressed against her arm and he was shaking as badly as she.

Hetty held him as tightly as she could, and cried. Cried for Dom, for the team, for a life that should never have been lost.

And that brilliant, wonderful boy held her in return, and cried as well.

They didn't speak. There were no words for their grief.

The morning would come and find Hetty put in her own bed like a child, and G wrapped in her blanket on the chair he had lifted her from. They would move silently through breakfast, silently through a world that had lost a light they could never replace. There would be much to do, the bureaucratic work of death and the emotional work of rebuilding a team which had been shattered.

And throughout that first morning, Hetty would find in herself the same exhaustion that kept her from answering Callen, and it would eat at her. Her failure, the loss – they would dig into her heart, and from them would come a decision not made in reason, but in grief.

But that silent night was theirs. When the world was dark and full of pain, Hetty Lange found that she was not entirely alone. There was a strong shoulder beside her, and a gentle hand to hold hers through the storm.

Whatever many failures she had suffered, in that silence Hetty was reminded that her magnificent G Callen could never be one of them.


	22. S1E22 Hunted

I'm so sorry, everyone! I really didn't mean to miss the last 2 weeks. I was traveling to see family and driving a few thousand miles across the country to do it. I did actually have my laptop, but what I didn't have was time. So this week you'll get the end of season 1 and the beginning of season 2. Still, hopefully this is the last time I'll have to do so much uploading at one time!

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 1, Episode 22: Hunted

* * *

G Callen had been fifteen years old when he finally broke free of the foster system thanks to running away and ending up in juvie. Which he then followed up by, of course, escaping custody, stealing a car, and making a run for it. Which ended him on a curb outside a random house – he never did learn whose, or how exactly Hetty knew to find him there.

But find him she did.

She found him, took him out of the foster system for good, cleared up his record, and gave him a home. And then she taught him new skills, opened up his mind to the world, and set him on the path that had guided him ever since. From that moment on, Callen owed her too many debts to name.

He already knew he would spend a lifetime paying them back – and today was one of those days.

Callen wasn't about to let her end her career like this, no matter what. Dom wouldn't have wanted her to resign on his behalf, and G himself didn't want to do this without her anymore. Macy had been a fine Operations Manager, but Hetty was special. She had always been special.

And he intended to remind her of it. Right this minute, before she packed away even one more book.

"You know, you can take the kid off the street but, uh…"

Any person within hearing would assume the end of the line had to do with taking the street out of the kid. That Callen's history had given him light fingers, and it was a skill he had never lost.

There wasn't anyone within earshot, but even then they couldn't have guessed the truth.

When Callen was seventeen, Hetty had been obliged to leave him with a trusted friend – someone Callen found out much later was a retired operative – while she took a two-month trip abroad. It wasn't the first time it happened in their time together between when she removed him from the foster care system and when he entered the service of the country, and it wouldn't be the last, but this one was of particular note.

Every other time before then, upon Hetty's return to Los Angeles, she had spent a night in one of her other homes, away from him, before retrieving him from his temporary guardian. He knew she did it – she even told him about it. It was partially so that she could ensure that no harm had followed her from the recent mission before she put him in danger, partially so she could adjust to the time difference in peace, and partially because, as she told him much later, a little solitude was sometimes necessary in the aftermath of the kind of missions people in their line of work were given.

This time, Hetty had been gone a week longer than scheduled, G Callen was seventeen and learning his own tradecraft, and he was tired of being protected.

She had retreated to the Ancora house, the quiet of the beach soothing after such a tense mission in Cairo. She had just unpacked her bag and was beginning to make tea when there came a sound at the back door.

Hetty had drawn her gun and waited.

The door had popped open, revealing G pocketing a spare key.

"Mister Callen." She had put her gun away and sighed. "Someday, you're going to get shot doing that."

"Not by you," he had said, full of trust. He smiled. "Welcome back."

"Thank you." She had returned to making tea, enough for two this time. "How did you know I'd come here?"

"I followed you." But he was fidgeting. It was a habit that was proving very hard to break.

"I would have noticed being tailed. Try again."

"I put a bug in your luggage."

"You haven't the equipment. The truth this time, please."

"I...guessed."

That had won him a smile. "Very good, Mister Callen. Your instincts serve you well. However, I would like to point out that you do not have a key for this house. I changed the locks only a few months ago."

"You did," he had said, sitting down at the table, "but I copied all your keys right before you left this time."

She had turned to him, surprised. "How…?"

He had shrugged.

"Oh well." She had given him a smile and pulled some cheese from the refrigerator. "I suppose you can take the kid off the streets…"

"And then he's going to follow you home," Callen had finished.

She had blinked at him.

G had shrugged again. "Pretty much? Even if I become the greatest agent in the world, I'm still going to go where you go. Even if you retire. There's no island anywhere on earth I can't follow you if I try hard enough."

She had been rather touched and swallowed quickly to hide it. "And why would you do that?"

"Because you gave me a home. I always want to be able to come home sometimes."

And that simple answer was her undoing when he recalled it to her mind over a box of books in an office she didn't want anymore some years of heartache later.

"You know, you can take the kid off the street but, uh…"

Now, as he faced her across a half-packed desk, he smirked. He had her and he knew it.

"Did I mention the canasta?"

Hetty sighed and reached for a glass. But the look she gave him spoke volumes. And he spoke back just the same as he poured her drink.

 _Message received. If I go, you will follow me, won't you?_

 _Anywhere. To the ends of the earth, if I have to._

 _I can't let you do that._

 _I can't let you, either._

"Oh, hell. Better make it a double."

So he did.


	23. S1E23 Burned

Season 1, Episode 23: Burned

* * *

It was the silence in the park, while they waited for the crowd to clear so Callen could call Eric with the plan, that said the most.

Hetty hadn't asked if he was armed – she knew he would be.

She hadn't asked if he was hurt – she knew it didn't matter right now.

In return, Callen hadn't asked if anyone else was hurt – he knew she would already have said so if they were.

The threat to NCIS was a wound all in itself, anyway.

A group of people were walking by, and it looked strange for the pair of them to be sitting in silence, so Callen spoke up.

"You're putting a lot of faith in me right now. More than I have in myself."

"I'm aware of that," she replied. "But my faith in you has yet to be wrong."

"Even if I'm about to rip off the bandage and possibly expose us even farther to danger?"

She gave him a smile. "Even if you were going to march into our house and blow it sky high. You're the best at what you do. You're also the only one who has had contact with our new adversary. No one can get a better read on him than you. So if this is the course of action you believe is necessary, I will support it."

He nodded, too focused to bother feeling grateful. Later, he would be. Now, he had to be on the job. He had to be an agent, not a man with a heart that could fear and doubt.

She patted his knee. "We'll talk some more later. I think this is your chance. Call Mister Beale and let's put an end to this mess."

G nodded and lifted the phone.

Time to get back in the game.


	24. S1E24 Callen, G

Season 1, Episode 24: Callen, G

* * *

"I know my family, Mister Callen. Believe me when I say sometimes I envy you not knowing yours."

It hurt, those words. It was a wound Hetty was always careful not to prod, and now she was driving salt and stones into it. It surprised him, and it ached like healing bullet wounds. Like holes torn through him, where there would forever be a void.

"I'm standing you down."

His world was spinning. First denied by Hetty, now losing his position…

"For one day. Use it wisely."

She handed him a piece of paper.

And the spinning stopped, the earth steadied under his feet. The pain retreated. Even before he unfolded it, he knew it was what he needed.

And there was an unspoken apology in Hetty's eyes as well.

Callen accepted both.

The piece of paper had a name, an address for the cemetary, and even visiting hours. It was an extra level of consideration that most others would have omitted, but Hetty never would. Because Hetty understood the value of what she was giving him. She understood that it was everything that mattered all in one tiny piece of information.

Beneath that was written a phrase he hadn't seen in years. It was a language he didn't speak, but Hetty did, and she had taught him a few bits and pieces along the way. Including what she told him was the only line that truly mattered in any language.

" _Family is whoever you hold in your heart._ "

Callen's fingers didn't quite shake, and he didn't quite crush the paper in his hands, but only because he shoved it into his pocket.

He was half-tempted to turn back around and say something, anything to her. "Thank you," maybe. Or "You're my family, too." Or even "I'm sorry for worrying you."

He drew in a deep breath.

He would go to Amy first. Hetty would understand, and he wouldn't be able to think about anything else until he saw the place where his sister – his _sister –_ was laid to rest. He could barely keep his feet going in any direction that didn't lead to her.

But when that was answered, when he could think again, he could be himself again.

His phone buzzed.

It was a text from Hetty from across the room.

"Leave now. Traffic."

He turned and looked at her.

Hetty was not even facing in his direction, and her phone was nowhere in sight.

Another text arrived.

"Dinner. 9pm. Greek Palace."

She was giving him time, hours on his own, to think and consider, to settle this new information inside his world before she called him back to hers. But she was also placing a limit on it, not letting him dwell on it or get caught in a whirlpool that had no exit.

She was doing the same thing she had always done for him. The thing she would always be there to do for him. She was giving him freedom, offering him control, and providing stability when he wanted it.

And with that behind him, G could face any unknown, because there would always be something stable to come home to.

Home.

He swallowed a lump in his throat.

Hetty looked up from her desk at that instant and met his eyes.

G gave her a nod and a little salute.

She hid a smile and nodded back.

That smile carried him all the way to Amy's grave.


	25. S2E1 Human Traffic

Season 2, Episode 1: Human Traffic

* * *

G was awake at dawn, staring up at a familiar ceiling from his sleeping bag as if he were fourteen years old again. Except this time, he wasn't in a temporary bedroom listening to the sounds of a temporary family. This was his house now.

 _His house._

He never could tell if he wanted to hug Hetty or chuck things at her head – maybe both at the same time. There was no other person in the world who would go so far as to take his money out of his accounts and buy him a house. Let alone do so without consulting him.

And no other person he would have accepted it from, either.

In the morning light, the colors of the house were different from what they had been the night before. The dawn-gold sunlight was much brighter than the evening sunset orange. It was more like the morning in the bullpen, where the evening sunset light was the same warm shade as the lamps in Hetty's office.

G started walking the empty floors of the house again, stepping on every floorboard, running his fingertips along the walls and doors and windows. He tried all the sinks, listening to their sounds, timing how long each one took to go from stone cold to scalding.

He was circling back to the front when he heard the slightest scraping sound from the porch. Curious, he peeked out a window.

Hetty was just straightening up. She looked at him through the window and gave a little smile, then turned to walk down the front path back to the street.

For a moment, G considered calling out to her. Maybe even chasing her.

She had given him a home, and now she had given him a house.

But he held still. If she had wanted to share this moment, this first morning, with him, she would have knocked. Hetty always did what she intended, and she clearly intended on leaving him to settle into his place on his own terms.

However, she had left him something.

He watched her long enough to see her get safely in her car – there weren't generally a lot of muggings in this neighborhood, but anybody who raised a finger to her was going to lose it and the hand attached to it – and then pulled open his front door.

Two boxes sat side by side, with a basket in the middle.

The basket was, of all things, a fruit basket. There was no card, just the fruit, but G didn't miss that it was all the fruit he tended to like and not the generic mixes that always included stuff he wouldn't eat unless he'd been starving in a Moroccan prison for more than a week.

The label on the left-hand box showed that it contained a set of cameras and a full, hardwired security system. G recognized the brand; it was the same Hetty used for one of her smaller houses.

The right-hand box held a wall safe.

G laughed.

Leave it to Hetty to not only buy him a house, but help him stock it with the essentials. Not furniture, or art, or knick-knacks, or linens. She didn't try to make his home look like other homes, not even like her own. She didn't try to fill up the empty quiet space which made him feel like he could breathe.

Instead, she fed him, and she protected him, and she helped him keep his secrets.

Because of course she did.

G carried in the boxes and the basket, and set about figuring out which wall or floor he was going to cut apart. He'd have to get Sam to lend him some tools so he could hide the safe correctly.

And it might hurt, he realized after a moment, to break an unbroken wall or rip up a smooth, steady floor.

But as much as this house represented his past, it could also represent his future.

Callen decided he was going to be all right with a little renovation after all.


	26. S2E2 Black Widow

Season 2, Episode 2: Black Widow

* * *

Hetty was going through the Wardrobe department when she found the green smock Callen had worn in the supermarket while posing as part of the hit squad. She wasn't even sure when he had gone back to get it, or if he had, for some unfathomable reason, carried it with him into the crisis.

Knowing him, it could be either.

Still, she didn't expect they would actually need a supermarket-branded green apron. And he had hug it on one of her best hangers, the heavy wooden one which could actually hold and keep the shape of some of Sam Hanna's more expensive outerwear.

Even if she was keeping it, such an item didn't rate better than a plastic hanger.

When she picked it up, she realized there was something in the front pocket that made it much heavier than expected, bulging a bit.

If it were anyone else, she might have been concerned there was a weapon left behind, or a bit of unfiled evidence. She might have been cautious. However, this was Callen – so whatever it was, it was harmless (though possibly irritating; the boy hadn't grown out of his pranks, after all) and it was not related to the case. And he knew perfectly well what she would do to him if he ever left a weapon in a place like this.

Bracing herself, she reached in to pull out whatever he had intended for her to find.

To her surprise, she found a spun-glass dragonfly, the sort that was meant to be stuck into the dirt of a potted plant. It was vividly dark green in color with purple and red accents, and its little jeweled eyes were blue.

Hetty shook her head. It was the sort of thing sold in florist shops – and in the garden center of a supermarket.

But she was absolutely, unquestionably certain that Callen had not had time to purchase such an item, either before, during, or after the operation. Which meant he had most likely stolen it while undercover.

"Oh, that ridiculous boy."

She ought to impale the little dragonfly's sharp spear right through his favorite couch cushion or throw blanket, perhaps teach him a lesson about stealing and about focusing on the job all at once.

She ought to order him to take it back to the store like a chastened child.

Hetty sighed. She was going to do neither, of course.

And her exasperation was very much worth the charmed expression on his face when he next entered her office and saw it sticking out of one of her plants.

She gave him a look, though. "No more secondary missions without authorization, Mister Callen."

"That wasn't a mission, Hetty," he said, eyes alight and particularly boyish. "It was...a gift."

"Well. I can see that. Thank you. Now, back to work, and don't do it again."

Of course, he didn't promise any such thing.


	27. S2E3 Borderline

Season 2, Episode 3: Borderline

* * *

Hetty walked up the stairs to stand with Callen after Nate left again.

"How come you didn't tell us where you sent him?"

"You should really ask him that yourself," she said.

"Nate wouldn't tell me even if I got Sam to sit on him. He'd just go on about how it was a normal assignment and he needed to be able to do this on his own."

Hetty nodded, approving. "Which he does."

They fell silent for a while.

"I'm not going to ask how you found out where I sent him," Hetty said at last. "And I wish I were surprised, but I'm genuinely not."

"You shouldn't be." He smirked. "You trained me."

"Indeed I did. And between the two of us, we trained Nate. Which is why I would like to ask your opinion." She turned to him, meeting his gaze. "Do you think I made the right decision?"

G considered the question carefully before he answered. "Nate...is courageous and idealistic. He's also one of the smartest guys I've ever met when it comes to reading and understanding people, even total strangers. He gets blind spots around the people he thinks he already knows, but when it comes to assessing bad guys or maybe-not-bad guys, there's nobody better."

Hetty nodded. "All true."

"But he's never really been in the middle of something like this. He's never had to be there in person to watch bullets tear through flesh and blood seep into the sand."

"That," and she let out a breath, "is what I'm afraid of."

"But the thing is," Callen said, "I think he can handle it. And I think none of us could really know how much he can handle until he tries. It wouldn't have been my first choice of a deployment for him. He's out there with no backup and no friends on the ground. But...if he can get through that? He can get through anything."

Hetty nodded.

Callen tipped his head. "And that's why you chose it, isn't it?"

"Yes. As well as because he truly is needed there. Our men and women in the field have so many enemies and so many false allies. Nate is the sort of person who could make the difference in some of our children coming home." Hetty cleared her throat. "It's the best decision for those soldiers. And it is the best decision for Nate's career."

"But you're not sure if it was the right decision for Nate."

Hetty's eyes wandered out to the open floor below. It was empty, everyone else long gone, but there was the memory of the people who walked it every day, who filled up its silences and its shadows with sound and life.

"In the end, we never do know if our decisions are right. We only know if they lead to pain. And I dearly hope this is not one either of us has cause to regret."

"I don't think it will be," Callen said. "And besides, if it is, we do know a damn fine psychologist."

"Yes, yes we do."

They sat in companionable silence for another moment before G spoke.

"But I do want you to promise me something, Hetty."

"What's that?"

"If Nate gets in trouble, real trouble, you'll tell us. And you'll send us to get him out of it."

"Oh, Mister Callen." She smiled. "That is not something you need worry about. If Nate is in trouble, rest assured that I'll be the first one on the plane."


	28. S2E4 Special Delivery

Season 2, Episode 4: Special Delivery

* * *

"You could have helped them," Hetty told G in a quiet moment while Eric, Kensi, Deeks, and Nell were throwing balloons at each other under Sam's watchful eye.

Callen shrugged. "They didn't really need help."

"How long did Mister Hanna and Miss Blye badger you for input about a potential gift?"

"I've been grilled worse than that."

Hetty shook her head. "But when Miss Jones asked you for a suggestion, you gave it willingly." She eyed him. "Were you playing your teammates, or showing kindness to the newest face in our house?"

"Eh." He leaned on the nearest wall. "Maybe a little of both. Sam and Kensi were so worried about doing the perfect thing for you. They were stressing about it. Nell just wanted to do something nice. She's been going back and forth with Eric ever since she got here, so I figured I'd give her a break."

"Yes, I too perceive a certain overlap of personalities there." But Hetty was amused. "I think it will be good for our Mister Beale to have some proper competition."

"I'm glad you're having fun, anyway." Callen made a face. "I just hope they don't kill each other."

"I'm certain you'll sort it out." She gave him a smile which would put any Cheshire cat to shame.

"Me?" He frowned at her. "This is definitely your doing, Hetty."

"Then consider it a challenge to you and your own development as well. How better to navigate the dynamics of your team than to provide you with more variables to, ahem, corral?"

She tipped her head to where Eric and Deeks were facing off against Sam and Nell in some sort of competition that appeared to involve smashing balloons into garbage cans. Kensi was aggressively ignoring them and appeared to be gathering her things to leave.

"Well." Callen gave her a smirk. "Since it's your birthday, I guess I'll let it pass this time."

"Oh, thank you." She said it with such insincere magnanimity, G couldn't help but laugh.

"In all seriousness, though." He met her eyes. "Happy birthday, Hetty." He saluted her with his drink. "A hundred years more of health, life, and joy."

"I don't know about a hundred years, but I'm grateful for the time I have. Thank you, Mister Callen." She returned the gesture with her own glass.


	29. S2E5 Little Angels

(If you need the reminder, at the end of this episode dealing with a missing girl who was buried alive, Sam has a bad case of poison ivy rash on his legs and up under his clothing. Hetty offers to put the lotion on him, and he and Callen bolt after she tells him to drop his pants.)

* * *

Season 2, Episode 5: Little Angels

* * *

Hetty laughed as soon as she was sure the boys were out of the building. There was truly no quicker way to get them to do what needed to be done than to threaten to do it herself. Though, if Sam were unable to talk his partner into putting the lotion on his rash, he would have an interesting time at home tonight.

She smiled at what she had overheard, though.

" _Know what really scares me?_ "

" _You mean besides clowns?_ "

" _Losing my partner._ "

Sam Hanna had lost a man, had been helpless but to hear the last breaths of a SEAL who was willing to die to preserve his own life, and had not only remained open-hearted and brave and loyal; he willingly attached himself to another partner whom Hetty was fairly certain he loved like a brother. And G Callen loved him right back.

They were both such excellent men, such fine agents.

And, as she activated the cameras in the boathouse, so _very_ predictable.

Without warning, she remotely turned on the monitor at the table so they could see her from where they were on the couch in what would in any other circumstances look like _very_ compromising positions. Compromising, _suggestive_ positions.

"For agents as well-trained as yourselves," she said without preamble, "you certainly have made a rather rookie mistake."

"Hetty!" Sam grabbed for a towel and pulled it over himself. It barely helped cover his waist-down nakedness, and he managed to get lotion all over the towel in the process.

Callen sighed and shook his head. "Seriously? You can't leave the man in peace?"

"If you had accepted my help, I wouldn't now be forced to remind you to purge the security footage from the boathouse yourselves, unless you want Eric and Nell to see it," she pointed out.

"Hetty, come on." Sam was looking anywhere but at the monitor. "Can we _not_ do this right now?"

"Mister Callen?" She needed only ask in that particular way and he understood all she did not trouble to put into words. It was concern, and an offer to help, and the certainty of her respect for whatever he thought would be best for Sam.

G shook his head. "I've got this. And I'll take care of the footage. Okay? Leave the man whatever's left of his dignity."

She raised an eyebrow. She didn't have to say anything to get a faint flush to rise in his cheeks as he remembered exactly where his hands were in regards to his partner.

"Mister Hanna, take tomorrow off, please, so that you may recover at home. I recommend either cotton trousers or none at all."

"Hetty, please!"

"Mister Callen, I suggest you procure some additional towels for Mister Hanna to sit on for the ride home, or you'll never get the stains out of the seats."

"Got it. We good now?"

She smiled at his impatience. "Indeed." Then, making sure that G was looking at her, she said, "Thank you for taking care of your partner."

Callen ducked his head a bit. "That's what we do."

Hetty saw the rest of his answer in his face, of course, about how he was glad to know Sam's history, that he was grateful she hadn't told him so Sam could do it himself in his own time, how he took that knowledge quite seriously and saw it as a gift. All things he might have said if they were alone, but would never say in front of Sam himself. Especially as vulnerable as he was.

Sam made a noise of discomfort. "So can we get to doing it already? Seriously, G, speed it up, man."

" _Definitely_ remember to purge the surveillance," Hetty said, chuckling, "or be prepared to explain yourselves to Eric in the morning. And anyone else to whom he shows it before you can stop him."

"Ooh." Callen suddenly grinned. "But that's, like, two-way blackmail material. So, Sam, what's it worth to you for the whole office not to see this, _and_ not to have to deal with Eric's trauma?"

Hetty cut the feed before she could be drawn into their bickering.

But she did preserve a personal copy of the video before Callen got rid of it.

Just in case.


	30. S2E6 Standoff

Season 2, Episode 6: Standoff

* * *

Callen's phone rang almost the instant Sam finished putting the cuffs on Tracy.

"Mister Callen?"

"Yeah, we got her."

"Glad to hear it. You should have some company in approximately forty-five seconds."

G caught Sam's eye. "Incoming."

"Incoming what?" Sam asked.

Callen shrugged and gestured to his phone. "Who are we expecting, Hetty?"

"I arranged to have a team from the FBI standing by to take Miss Rosetti into custody as soon as you had made the arrest."

G wanted to argue that this was _his_ arrest, that _he_ should have the right to drag Tracy on the plane himself, that he didn't know if he really trusted these FBI guys after she had turned on them, that Tracy was and always had been his problem.

"Hetty…" he started.

"Not this time, Mister Callen," she cut him off sharply. "That woman has caused enough grief for us all and doubly for you. I will not allow her to be in any position to do so again. Hand her over and come home."

He sighed. That tone of voice meant she was serious – and if he crossed her now, he'd inexplicably end up with four times as much paperwork as usual for a week.

"Understood."

"Very good. Oh, and if you would convey a message to your partner for me?"

"Sure."

"Tell him to keep an eye on you."

"Hetty says hi," he told Sam.

"Don't worry about it," Sam said loud enough for Hetty to hear. "I got his back." He glared at Tracy. "Like a real partner."

"Some kinda boy scout you picked up, Callen," she said.

"Hey, get it right. I am a SEAL."

Callen turned his back on both of them.

"I will say this," Hetty said. "I am grateful to Miss Rosetti for precisely two reasons."

"Yeah? What are those?"

"First, up until her deplorable failure on your final mission together, she did keep you relatively safe while you were partners."

G could feel the light in Hetty's expression all the way from LA. "Yeah, but you don't really care about that. What's the second?"

"She instilled in you the same habits of bickering and levity which provided an opening for you when you were paired up with Mister Hanna."

He scowled at the phone. "I am _not_ giving her credit for that. I was good and witty all on my own."

"I'm glad you believe so, Mister Callen. Now, the FBI should be at your location. Please hand off your prisoner and return home. And do _not_ add to the expense of this trip any farther, if you please."

Callen looked over his shoulder at Sam. "Hetty says we should go out to dinner. Her treat."

"I said no such thing!"

"See you when we get back, Hetty!" And he hung up on her.

Sam's phone immediately started to ring.

"Don't answer that," Callen told him.

"Oh, I hate getting between you two when you start pulling her pigtails." Sam sighed.

"Excuse me. Agents Callen and Hanna?"

They turned to see the group of men gathered on the dock. The lead one held up his badge.

"We're here to take this person into custody?"

The phone in Sam's pocket stopped ringing.

As Sam handed Tracy over to them, he threw a smirk at Callen.

"First time I think I can actually say I've been saved by the FBI."

"Well, let's not waste it!" Callen grinned. "Dinner?"

"I'm going to pay for this, aren't I?" Sam asked. His phone dinged with a text, and he pulled it up. "Yes, apparently I am buying dinner. And Hetty definitely doesn't say hi back to you."

G laughed, and found he could walk away from Tracy this time without looking back.


	31. S2E7 Anonymous

Season 2, Episode 7: Anonymous

* * *

"Your team did very well tonight."

Sam and Deeks were still re-hanging their tuxedos up _correctly –_ it was a skill Callen had learned from Hetty years ago, so he was finished much more quickly. When it came to all things Wardrobe, it was better just to do things her way than try to talk her out of it.

"They did," he said.

"How many hangers do you need for one suit? Seriously?" Deeks yelled from the alcove.

"You will do it properly or I'll come in there and do it for you!" Hetty threatened.

Then there was a whispered warning from Sam, and Hetty and Callen exchanged smiles.

"You were right, by the way," Callen said. He nodded at the alcove. "He does fit in."

"Indeed he does. And he took a real chance to day with that sarin gas."

"Yeah, but Kensi's still going to kill him."

Hetty gave him a sideways look. "Do you really think so?"

"Honestly? I can't tell." He huffed a laugh. "When we first met him, I kept teasing her about having a thing for him, and I still don't think I was wrong. It kinda depends on what happens the more they're teamed up together, I guess."

Hetty nodded. "Well, if it becomes a problem, I trust you will be able to handle it. In the end, I think this team has proven that it can get the job done and done well with very little support or lead time, and that is both rare and commendable."

"Coming from you, that means a lot," G said. "I didn't thank you, did I?"

"For?"

"For making this team. After Macy...well, it could have gone very differently."

"Perhaps." She shrugged at him. "But I choose to believe that you would have landed on your feet regardless, Mister Callen. I just...steadied the ground a little."

"Well, thanks for that, too."

"You're welcome."

"Hetty, I can't figure out how to hang these pants so the creases match up," Deeks said, sticking his head out from the curtain. "Can I just leave them here and you fix them later?"

"Absolutely not." She strode forward.

"Sam, we got incoming!" Deeks squeaked as he dove back into the alcove. "Gimme my pants, man! Now!"

"You haven't got anything I haven't seen before," Hetty said, sweeping aside the curtain. "In fact, let me tell you the story of how I snuck into an underground KGB bunker wearing nothing but a towel. Men truly are rather odd when it comes to their own nudity sometimes."

Sam and Deeks both looked past her to Callen with a wordless plea for help.

Callen cackled and decided now was a perfect time to beat a strategic retreat.


	32. S2E8 Bounty

Well, it's late in the evening, but at least it's the right day!

This set of chapters includes the first appearance of Mattias, and any episode in which he goes after Hetty and Callen has FEELINGS gives me all the feels in return, so these were very much fun.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 2, Episode 8: Bounty

* * *

As Hetty unpacked her tea, which was _not_ the reason she sent two of her agents all the way to Afghanistan and she would swear it before the Secretary of Defense or the Joint Chiefs if she had to, she found a piece of paper wedged between two of the packets.

It was an email address.

She could, of course, go ask Agent Callen exactly what it was, but that wasn't how the game between them was played, after all.

While she set one cup of tea to steep, she turned on her laptop and opened one of the email addresses Eric had set up for her which was unofficial and untraceable. She composed a very short message indicating that she had received the email in a package.

The response came before she had finished enjoying her tea.

" _The American who spoke Russian and his friend saved my life. The American sent me to someone who could help me get my family to safety, and he gave me money to pay their way. In return, he only asked that I send shipments of tea whenever I got an email. You are the American's friend who likes tea? I helped him pick what he bought. I do not even require money for this. Give me an address and I will send you all the tea you want for as long as you like. It is a small debt to repay for the safety of my family._ "

Hetty sat back and shook her head. Some things never changed; she dearly hoped they never would.

She replied at once.

" _I have all the tea I require for now, but I shall gladly take you up on your offer when I run low. If you send me an address where I can reach you, I will also compensate you for your trouble. The one to whom you owe a debt would tell you that it is easier to let me reimburse you than to have him lording it over me. And if you need any other help for your family, you may use this email address to contact me. I will make no promises, but if there is a need, I am certain our mutual friend will have some ideas._ "

Then she sent a text to Callen.

"I don't recall authorizing a back-channel for tea delivery."

The response, when it came, made her laugh.

"The mission required a long setup, and I had some time to kill. And you're welcome."


	33. S2E9 Absolution

Season 2, Episode 9: Absolution

* * *

They were riding back to the office in separate cars, and to no one's surprise, Callen opted to ride in Hetty's with her, while Sam and Deeks took the bleeding Matthias to lockup and Kensi drove her own car. Callen sat quietly in the passenger seat, simply watching the road.

But Hetty knew the look of his shoulders, the way his sharp eyes roved over everything that moved and everything that didn't. He was still on guard.

He was still guarding _her_.

"You shouldn't have come after me, Mister Callen," she said eventually.

The break in the silence between them reverberated like a gunshot.

"And if I hadn't, we'd be seeing you again one piece at a time. No. No _way_. Not happening."

She shook her head at his clipped tone. "No matter how it must frustrate you, there will always be some things which I must handle in my own way. We all have a past, Mister Callen. And mine requires a certain amount of...intervention, in order to _keep_ it in the past."

"And I get that, Hetty. I really do. But that doesn't mean I'm going to let you walk into the arms of a foreign operative without any backup." He drew in a breath and Hetty was surprised to hear a shake in it. "You can't ask me to do that."

She gentled her tone for him. "No, I suppose I can't." At the next red light, however, she looked across at him. "However, I also do not have to ask your permission to do my job. And you must accept that. You may not like it. But you will not prevent me from doing what we do. What _I_ taught _you_ to do."

He looked away and said nothing.

For all that he could fool any criminal with his undercover work, for all that his acting had saved his life hundreds or thousands of times, he could never hide the truth of himself from her. And not just because she had taught him – but because on some level, he never wished to keep her from him. Not when it mattered.

And now he was in pain, his fear and worry and protectiveness rolling off him like water.

Just before the light turned green, Hetty reached over to pat him on the arm. All other things being equal, she hated to see him suffering so.

"Thank you. For coming after me. It was foolish, and unnecessary, but I am grateful all the same."

"You're not in this alone, Hetty. You never will be, not as long as I'm alive."

And she heard the vow, the intensity of the promise that he made with his very soul, and she mourned it for all he could not know.

But the light turned green, and there was nothing to do but continue forward.


	34. S2E10 Deliverance

Season 2, Episode 10: Deliverance

* * *

It wasn't breaking in if you had a key – or if you had made a copy of the key. That was what G told himself as he let himself into the house at Briar Patch.

It was well past midnight, but he expected Hetty was as wide awake as he was, if for different reasons.

Confronting Matthias had been deeply, darkly satisfying, and it had taken G a long drive to work off the rush it gave him. But after the last few days, playing shadow games with spies and agents, watching Hetty slip from him again and again only to be in danger over and over, losing Kensi, staring down a sniper – it had been pure relief to scare the hell out of the man who had threatened Hetty more times than Callen knew she would ever admit.

Hetty had told him not to be worried about Matthias. That, G knew, meant that he shouldn't worry because Matthias was no threat _to him_. But he _had_ been a threat to Hetty.

 _Nobody_ threatened Hetty, not while Callen had anything to say about it.

He hadn't intended on taking the team with him. Ambushing Matthias, promising to destroy him if anything ever happened to Hetty, that was his to do. His duty, his debt, his honor to repay. But Sam caught him working on the necessary research – it wasn't the sort of thing he could outsource to Eric or Nell – and wouldn't leave him alone until he explained why he needed pictures of the man's wife and house and mistress and his bank statements. By the time Sam got the truth out of Callen, Kensi and Deeks were in on it.

For as long as he lived, G would never forget what they had said.

"So, what are we doing? Are we taking him out? Losing him off a short pier? What?"

Everyone had stared at Deeks.

He'd shrugged. "Guy's serious bad news and he has it out for Hetty. Tell me we're not doing nothing."

"We're not. I am." G had stood up to go.

"G." Sam had put a hand on his shoulder. "You're not the only one who wants to protect her. The only one who would kill to protect her."

"He needs to know that this doesn't go away even if he gets one of us," Kensi had said. "He needs to be scared of every shadow, thinking one of us could be in it." Then her eyes had narrowed. "And he did have his goons put me in that laser cage."

"You said it, partner." Sam's gaze had been pure steel and fury and undying loyalty. "Let's make sure that scum never comes near our team again."

What could he do but welcome their help?

The attack had been brutal and satisfying, and G Callen had meant every word of his threat with all his heart and soul. If anything ever happened to Hetty, G would be in the wind, hunting down Matthias and everyone like him. Anyone who might have raised a hand to her.

He would empty the world of Hetty's enemies, one by one, and never feel an instant of remorse.

Which was why he was at Briar Patch tonight. He couldn't not be near, not now. Not when he didn't even know how many times she had been threatened in the last few days. Not when there had been Russians and Matthias and who knows how many others circling Los Angeles like sharks, looking for the meal in the water.

And he didn't think Hetty should be alone after losing Cole, either. In the room with the body, when he had seen her standing by the window, for the first time in his life, Callen could have said she looked frail. He'd seen her tired, heartsick, even vulnerable. But never had her strength abandoned her as it did then. Never had she seemed so adrift and lost.

" _My marriage to Branston might be as close as I've ever gotten to the real thing._ "

No, G Callen could not leave her alone tonight. Not when she was grieving again. Not when there had been guns pointed at her, and he had been too far away to help.

Like the night Dom had been killed, he ascended the stairs quietly, but not silently. Hetty was upstairs this time, too, but the door was open.

"Mister Callen?"

He stepped into the pool of light cast by the reading lamp in her bedroom. Hetty was curled up in her squashy-looking chair with a fuzzy robe and slippers over a nightdress, The Red Badge of Courage in her lap.

G didn't really know what to say. He couldn't exactly admit that he had threatened Matthias to within an inch of his life, and had been dearly tempted to kill the man anyway. And he didn't want to bring up Branston Cole, not if it put that frailty back in Hetty's eyes again.

He glanced to the book.

She gave him a very small, knowing smile.

Yes, he guessed what it was. He wasn't even surprised anymore. Actually, it made sense that she would have taken possession of the book, and that she would never have revealed it to anyone, even for Kensi's life. Not if it was as dangerous as she claimed.

And G was privately grateful that it was in Hetty's hands and no one else's. If it could bring down governments, destroy lives, threaten war, then there wasn't another person on earth G trusted more than Hetty to guard it.

She had given him its secret in her office by nothing more than a look and a lifetime of unspoken understanding. And Callen knew that she had not shared the book's existence accidentally at all.

She would guard it – but if someday she could not, she would trust him to do so in her stead.

G stepped into the room. "I just thought…"

"I know what you thought, Mister Callen." But the old smile was back in the folds of her face again.

He gave a shrug.

"Sit down, if you please."

G cast about and finally found a low stool in front of a dressing table. He hauled it across the room and planted it beside where she sat. After a moment of just staring at her, at looking for what all her invisible signals would tell him, he settled in it and let himself lean against her chair.

"This won't take very long, and I daresay neither of us will be sleeping any time soon."

She opened the book, and it took every inch of discipline in G's body not to look at the dots, at the page numbers, not to try to find the patterns of information which could ruin the very world.

Hetty stopped and rested a hand on the first page.

"Do you know what true courage is, Mister Callen?"

He should have said something flippant, but he couldn't come up with anything that didn't feel false. Instead he said, "I think about you, and about Sam. You're the two bravest, strongest people I've ever known. If there's courage in the world, that's where I found it."

"Hmm." She closed her eyes. "Courage, Mister Callen, is not rushing ahead to prove oneself. It is holding still in the middle of a hurricane, and never giving way. Mister Hanna is very courageous, you are correct. Of myself, I don't really know." She opened her eyes and faced him. "But you, Mister Callen, you are the bravest person _I_ know."

He stared at her.

"Because you still dare to stand still in the howling storm, and more than that, you're willing to stand in a storm not of your own making. You would stand there in place of another, even if that storm were to dash you to bits. And you would never falter. I believe there's not a storm made in this world which could truly bring you down for good."

He swallowed. He wasn't certain he could make his voice work.

"I hope," and there was a tremble in her voice that she would never have allowed betray her in the office, but here in the warm-lit room it fell from her like a release, "that you never have cause to find out if your courage will stand you up through the kinds of storms I have seen. I know that it will, but I pray you never have to lead a life quite the way I have done."

He pushed through the lump in his throat to speak. "If I am ever half the person you are, Hetty, it will be _because_ of the life you lived. Not in spite of it."

She gave him a smile that was warm and still rather sad.

"I hope, Mister Callen, that you never have to find out." And she fixed her gaze on the book and began to read it aloud to him.

" _The cold passed reluctantly from the earth, and the retiring fogs revealed an army stretched out on the hills, resting. As the landscape changed from brown to green, the army awakened, and began to tremble with eagerness at the noise of rumors. It cast its eyes upon the roads, which were growing from long troughs of liquid mud to proper thoroughfares. A river, amber-tinted in the shadow of its banks, purled at the army's feet; and at night, when the stream had become of a sorrowful blackness, one could see across it the red, eyelike gleam of hostile campfires set in the low brows of distant hills_ …"


	35. S2E11 Disorder

Season 2, Episode 11: Disorder

* * *

The first morning back in the office after Christmas, Callen left a basket with twenty scented candles on Hetty's desk in the office. Hetty was upstairs talking to Eric, and then she had to have a meeting with one of the logistics support team which left the poor man blubbering for an hour. By the time she returned to her desk, the air was filled with a heady mix of pine, lavender, sea breeze, and every other flower ever artificially reproduced.

Callen made himself scarce for another hour, just on principle.

But, because she was Hetty, she caught up with him somewhere he couldn't easily escape and effectively cornered him in the back hallway outside the burn room.

"Mister Callen, is there a _reason_ for the overabundance of waxen statuary on my desk?"

G smiled. "Well, I was thinking."

"Oh, this should be good." She crossed her arms. "And?"

"Well. I figured that you had that candle for two years before you gave it to me. Right?"

"I suppose."

"So, if you had more candles, you would have to spread out the distribution of the things over many Christmases and maybe birthdays." He rocked on his feet.

She didn't quite sigh, but he could see her exasperation anyway. "And your point is?"

G gave her the kind of grin that made him look like a boy.

"So, twenty candles, times a minimum of two years apiece, means I have at least forty more Christmases to look forward to your regifting habit."

Hetty couldn't have said if she was deeply touched or thoroughly galled at his sheer cheek. She shook her head at him, drew in a breath, and managed not to let her eyes get watery.

"Well." She turned to leave. "Then I shall not disappoint you."

"You never do, Hetty."

"Neither do you, Mister Callen. Neither do you."


	36. S2E12 Overwatch

This week's entries are a little short, but the episodes are comparatively tame as well. Season 2 really had peaks and valleys, and this was one of the quieter runs before stuff gets loud. But there's still room for some fun!

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 2, Episode 12: Overwatch

* * *

Callen climbed back down the wall, and even that took him longer than it took Hetty.

"How do you _do_ that?" he asked.

"Most people assume climbing is about size. That being taller is an advantage. And it is – if you lack creativity. But to be smaller means I have less mass to move, and I can take more risks."

He ran an arm over his forehead, but the sweat continued to rain down in rivulets anyway. "You were swinging from those holds like a monkey."

"I'll thank you not to repeat that analogy ever again, Mister Callen." But she smiled. He noted that she looked barely out of breath, and not at all sweaty. "Next week, I'll take you out climbing on some real rocks and we'll see what you can do."

"Is that really necessary?"

"It is if you ever have to climb anything for a mission," she returned. "Such as a fence. Or a wall. Or if you are working on a case in a remote location. Or…"

"I get it, I get it. Fine. Saturday morning?"

"I'll expect you at 8am."

"Deal." He started for the locker room, but stopped and turned back. "Are you ever going to stop schooling me, Hetty?"

"I wasn't planning on it, no. And as I did win our bet, I expect you to hold up your end of our bargain, or you will not enjoy Saturday one bit." The threat in her eyes was very real.

He laughed. "Then I guess I better do those evaluations."

"Indeed. Oh, and Mister Callen?"

"Yeah?"

"While I do require you to be more critical in your assessments of your team...I very much understand your desire to mark them perfectly. They are…"

And she simply shook her head.

Callen nodded. "Yeah. They are."


	37. S2E13 Archangel

Season 2, Episode 13: Archangel

* * *

Hetty found Callen in the office after midnight, sitting alone in the Ops center, scrolling through the names of the dead.

"Are you all right, Mister Callen?"

"Fine."

She approached slowly. Sitting on the stool, feet out in front of him, shoulders hunched, he looked so much younger than his true age. She could see the teenager hovering inside the man. "Are you quite certain?"

"Yeah."

"Then I question why you are looking at photographs of fallen soldiers in the middle of the night."

"It's just...Sam said that Driscoll wanted them to have names. Not to be numbers or statistics anymore."

Hetty nodded and waited.

"So...I was thinking about something you said once. About the number of skeletons in our closets. And...I'll never know all their names. The people I killed. I'm...not even sure I could tell you how many there have been."

Hetty put a hand on his shoulder. But she did not interrupt him yet. The cadence of his revelations was always the same. He peered at the pictures for a few more moments, then cleared his throat.

"I thought...maybe I should learn these names instead."

"I see." Hetty cleared her throat.

"But...even if I remember them...it isn't really the same. It's...they deserve to be remembered, but it doesn't make up for the people I took away."

"I won't argue the point, though I personally don't agree. However, if it helps, I would suggest you consider a different list altogether."

Callen looked at her and his eyes were too bright, and too close to brittleness for her liking.

She gave him a tiny smile. "You'll find it in the system under the name George Bailey."

"George...is that a movie reference?"

"Indeed. _It's a Wonderful Life_."

He almost managed a smirk. "I think I've seen that movie. So, what is it?"

"A list, Mister Callen. Of every person I could find who is alive today because of your actions. Not a general list, not the population of LA, but specific individuals who have been protected because of your work. And it is a very, very long list."

She gave his shoulder a shake.

"Memorize those names, and let them be your star to guide you. We can't change the past. We can't do anything for the dead. But the living...those are the ones we must remember. They are the ones who make what we do worthwhile."

Callen shut his eyes and the haunted expression faded from his face.

"Thank you, Hetty."

"You're welcome."

But before she could go, he stood. "Do you have a list like that?"

"Not precisely."

He could read in her tone of voice that she had her own reasons for her answer, and didn't want to get into them, so he simply said, "If you ever make one?"

"Yes?"

"Put my name at the top of it."


	38. S2E14 Lockup

Season 2, Episode 14: Lockup

* * *

After Moe's death, Hetty left Callen a single message reminding him that it had been 48 hours and he was needed.

He didn't call her back for another twelve hours, so she called again. And left another message:

"Mister Callen. Even if you believe you need more time, I order you to check in. Some things have transpired and your team needs your help. Do not make me send them after you."

He called her back four hours later.

"What's going on?"

"Oh, Mister Callen." She sighed and explained about the prison and Moe. She told him how Sam was grieving, and how he was overworked and handling it very much on his own.

Callen was too quiet on the other end of the line.

"Can your investigation not wait?" she asked.

"I…" He sounded so unsure. "I don't want this to be for nothing."

"But if your team continues to struggle without you, then anything you find may well not be worth the price you pay to attain it."

"I know. I know."

"Do you, Mister Callen?" She dared raise her voice a little. "You are the leader of his team. That is not a ceremonial position. You are also the rock they all stand on, their unmoving point in the storm."

"No, that's you, Hetty. I'm just the guy with the gun who goes in first."

"You are very much mistaken if you think so." She shook her head even though he couldn't see it. "Come back, Mister Callen. Your partner needs you, and not just because of Moe."

"I will," and she could hear the promise in it, "but not yet. Just...give me a little more time."

Hetty knew she could order him back, and he would come, but she sighed instead.

"Two more days, Mister Callen. And then I want you back on the job."

"Thank you, Hetty."

"But there is one condition."

"What?"

"You will check in with me every six hours for the next two days. I don't like not knowing what my agents are up to."

He chuckled. "Fine. Talk to you later, then."

After he hung up, Hetty stared at her phone. The great problem of looking after G Callen was that he made it very difficult for anyone to help him sometimes. He could help others almost effortlessly, almost tirelessly, but at times it took a miracle to get him to accept help in return. Sam could manage it, and Kensi now and again, but Hetty's help was more complicated.

She had been helping him for so long, he felt it was a debt that he had to repay, and he instinctively shied away from making the debt any deeper. To say nothing of his entirely misplaced but ardent desire to protect her or "not bother" her.

"Two days, Mister Callen," she said under her breath. "And then I bring you in myself."


	39. S2E15 Tin Soldiers

A few tense episodes right in a row here. As always, such fun to write, even if I'm sure they weren't much fun for our dear characters!

I just want to say, I so very much appreciate every one of you who reads this story. Because there are so many individual chapters, I'm going to stop trying to respond to comments that are just "nice!" or "I liked it, thanks!" Not because I don't appreciate each and every one of you, but because I'll never keep up that way! If you write me something that has more meat to it than that, I'll be all over it, though.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 2, Episode 15: Tin Soldiers

* * *

"I looked up that plant."

Hetty poured a cup of tea, handing it over without looking behind her as if she had expected to find Callen suddenly standing at her desk an hour before anyone else arrived at the office.

"Yes?"

"It doesn't need soil, and it doesn't have roots, but it does grow on something."

She raised an eyebrow at him before turning away to pour her own cup of tea. "Nothing comes from nothing, Mister Callen."

"Yeah, but these epiphytes...they grow on other plants. And they take their strength from them. They _can_ grow without much of anything at all, but they really only thrive in the presence of something else to hold them up."

Hetty smiled, then banished it before she turned fully around.

"Do I sense a point in this botany lesson?"

Callen looked into his teacup for a moment. "I guess...I just wanted to say sorry. I know you want to help me figure out my past. And...I don't want it to seem like I'm trying to find it and write you out of it."

Hetty knew that such an admission cost him dearly. "Oh, Mister Callen, I have no fears about that." She moved around him to sit in her chair. "And I do appreciate your apology."

He followed, settling into the seat across from her. "I'll say something to the team, too."

She nodded. "You should. If, as you say, you grow better when held up, it is important that you realize that I am not the only thing holding you up anymore. I may not even be the most important thing."

Callen made a tiny smile. "But you were the first. That always counts for something."

"And I shall be here until the end," she told him. "But now, it is time to make sure your team is strong enough for all of you."

"When they get here," he said, nodding at the empty bullpen.

"Obviously."

"Oh, and Hetty?"

She sipped her tea and waited.

"I'm glad you're here, too."


	40. S2E16 Empty Quiver

Season 2, Episode 16: Empty Quiver

* * *

They didn't talk about it. It was exactly the sort of thing they ought to talk about, but every time they shared that look, they backed away.

Because it was a discussion that had been had too many times, and there simply was no resolution to it.

Hetty would protect G Callen, always. He knew this. He'd known it since he was fifteen years old. She would play the politics game, would shield him from blame in missions that went wrong, and now that she was his Ops Manager, it was far easier for her to do so without having to pull favors the way she had when he had been on other assignments for other agencies.

All she asked in return was for his trust.

Trust was not hard for him to give Hetty. He trusted her more than he trusted himself most days. He trusted her to do what she thought was right, and he trusted her to be right more often than anyone else he knew. He trusted her to have his back, and he trusted her to take care of his team.

But the one thing he could not trust Hetty to do was to take care of _herself_ , especially if it meant putting him in danger. Because every time blame got thrown around, every time someone was called on the carpet, Hetty had made it her job to stand at the center of attention, and kept Callen from sharing that sort of attack. Just like she met Matthias alone, when he would have gladly gone with her to guard her.

G Callen could trust Hetty with his life, but he had trouble trusting her with her own.

And that was their stalemate. Because Hetty trusted Callen to do the right thing, to make the best possible call, and to find a way to win the unwinnable situation, to succeed where success should be impossible. But she did not trust him to protect himself if he was too busy trying to protect her.

" _I don't need your protection. I need your trust!_ "

" _And I need your help._ "

It was the constant struggle between them. Trust and protection.

They both trusted each other. And they would both protect each other.

And they both thought the other would do so at the expense of the other.

And they were both correct.

So they exchanged a measured, knowing look, and said nothing.

Because Hetty did trust Callen, and Callen trusted Hetty. And Hetty would risk anything to protect Callen, and Callen would risk anything to protect Hetty. And neither one of them would ever stand down that protection.

And they both hoped that they would never be called to choose between trust and protection, or between either of those things and their job. Because if they ever had to decide between the safety of the nation and the safety of one another – well, both would make the only decision that could be made, but it would haunt them for the rest of their lives.


	41. S2E17 Personal

Season 2, Episode 17: Personal

* * *

Hetty was not surprised to see Callen waiting out in the hall when she finally left Deeks to sleep.

"He's really one of us now, isn't he?" he asked.

"Indeed."

Hetty moved to the nurses' station and waited for someone to notice her. And she did not kick Callen when he smirked at how very close the edge of the counter came to her nose.

"Can I help you?" one of the nurses asked.

"I've just finished speaking to Mister Deeks," Hetty said. "He has given me his consent to update his next-of-kin registry on his behalf, please."

"Oh?"

"Mister Deeks is without family he can claim at this time, so I would like to put down my information."

Beside her, Callen cleared his throat. "Actually, put me down, too."

Hetty gave him an appraising look.

Callen shrugged. "What? You said it. Agents become family."

"I said it to Sam. You were still off chasing shadows." She raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but I heard about it from Sam. At length. And he was right. And you were right." Callen looked back to the nurse. "So put me down, too."

The nurse smiled at them both. "I'll just grab the paperwork."

Hetty waited until she was out of earshot. "And what name will you give them, Mister Callen? Which alias?"

"No alias. Just me."

"Ah." Hetty gave him a very satisfied smile. "I am thoroughly glad to hear it."


	42. S2E18 Harm's Way

Season 2, Episode 18: Harm's Way

* * *

"What do you think of orange?"

Hetty sighed at the text. She had been expecting it, of course, but still. It irked that her agent could be up to his neck in danger, his partner moreso, and he was still taking time for such frivolity. She knew he was doing it while playing up his cover, but still.

"No," she replied. "Status?"

"All good."

"Stay focused."

"What do you think about pink and gold?"

"Focused."

"Don't worry. I am."

But she did worry.

A few hours later, there was another text.

"What do you think about yellow?"

She sighed. "Depends on the exact shade of yellow."

"Nate says it's a good yellow."

"I trust Nate's sense of color far more than yours."

"I'll be sure to tell him that."

"Be sure to take care of your partner." She considered using all-caps, just to emphasize the point, but she trusted he would understand it.

The text that returned made her smile. "Always."

The final set of texts came when she knew her agents were already on the way home.

"I think you're gonna like what we picked out."

She sighed. "I await it with some trepidation."

"Nate wrote up an analysis of colors for me. It's four pages long."

"I am now more concerned than ever." She could almost sense him laughing as he read her answer.

"Sam says it will bring out your eyes."

Hetty sighed. "If you are mocking me, I will bring out my knives."

Both futahs Callen brought back were lovely, and the hand-written notes from Nate were detailed and oddly charming.

Hetty had expected nothing less.


	43. S2E19 Enemy Within

I'm late, but I made it!

Here are some more simple ones before the epic roller-coaster that was the end of Season 2!

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 2, Episode 19: Enemy Within

* * *

Callen wandered into Hetty's office. "I see why you let Nell stick around."

She smiled. "Miss Jones does have rather an arsenal of intellectual arms to launch against any unwitting foes."

"It's not just that." He smirked. "I think you see a lot of yourself in her."

"Whatever gives you that impression?"

"Well, she's smart, dedicated, fierce under fire, something about a lack of social niceties…" He trailed off, waving a hand.

Hetty frowned at him. "I dare you to try saying that again, Mister Callen."

That made him smile even more, and he opted not to rise to the bait. "But there's a difference between the two of you."

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Nell walks in the light."

"Ah." She nodded. "Yes. Miss Jones has many of the skills of an agent, but she does not dwell in the shadows like you and I."

"And that's why you took her on. Isn't it?" His face lit up in understanding. "Not just because she's good enough to be an agent, but because you know what she'll have to go through in order to do it. You're giving her the chance to learn with a safety net. So she can decide for herself if she wants to take a turn in the dark, or if she is better off staying where she is."

Hetty flinched but did not deny it. "I wish that no one would have to make such a choice, but that is not the world in which we live."

Callen let out a breath. "If I had to lay money, I'd say Nell isn't cut out to walk in your exact footsteps...but I could see her stepping into your shoes someday."

Hetty dipped her head to him. "Perhaps. She's still young and has a great deal to learn. But...someday. I suppose we shall see."

"Yeah, but in the meantime," G smirked, "we should send her some tougher targets. She made dog food out of that bureaucratic waste of skin. Do you know if North Korea can spare anybody for a few days?"

Hetty smiled.


	44. S2E20 The Job

Season 2, Episode 20: The Job

* * *

"Out of curiosity," Callen said, peering at the pillar at the edge of Hetty's office, "did anybody actually _fix_ this building? Or are we the next big shake, rattle, and roll away from needing a new office?"

"It depends on what you mean by 'fix,' Mister Callen," she replied, setting aside some papers.

"Okay, that's not encouraging." He eyed her. "Was Kensi onto something with this earthquake kit thing? Do I need to buy you a helmet?"

Now Hetty glared at him. "Try it, and you'll not like where I wedge it."

G laughed. "So...the building is safe, then?"

"In a manner of speaking. Most of the spaces where personnel tend to congregate have been reinforced, and the greatest existing structural damage has been corrected."

"But...does that mean it's still going to come down on our heads when the big one comes?"

"Let's just say that you would do well to be either up in Ops or here in my office if it does."

"No love for the bullpen." Callen crossed his arms. Then he glanced around. "Wait. How exactly did you make this little cottage earthquake-proof? It barely has a roof."

Hetty smiled. "Some clever engineering, and a number of people who owed me favors."

G shook his head, then grinned. "I'm still gonna buy you that helmet."

"Please don't trouble yourself." She sighed.

"Do you think you're more a youth size, or should I go straight for the kids' football section?"

At the expression on her face, Callen bolted from her office and made himself scarce until Hetty's rage subsided to less-than-8.5 levels on the danger scale.


	45. S2E21 Rocket Man

Season 2, Episode 21: Rocket Man

* * *

"I owe you an apology."

Callen had been aware of the fact that Hetty was still in the office – he could have told exactly who was left in the building, and where they were, and how long they would likely remain at any moment. He'd spent enough nights there to know them all, their footsteps and their habits. But he had expected Hetty to enter the empty bullpen except perhaps to say good night and to remind him not to sleep on the couch again.

"What for?"

"I should have asked you to keep an eye on Mister Beale yesterday."

"Hetty, no." G shook his head. "First of all, I was the lead agent on the ground, not you. It should have been me sending someone to watch his back. Secondly, we really didn't expect anyone to try frying someone alive a second time."

"An agent who doesn't expect someone to try to kill them every instant is an agent who won't live very long and you know it." She frowned. "Mister Beale had never been in the field, and for his first excursion, I left him unguarded."

" _I_ left him unguarded," Callen said. "I could have sent any one of us to be his overwatch, but I didn't."

"And he could have died. If he hadn't been in contact with Miss Jones, you would have found a body when you went looking for your teammate."

Callen was confused. "So...are you actually mad at yourself, or at me? Just so we're clear who's getting the lecture here."

"I believe I am upset with both of us. I assumed he would be safe, and so did you. And that is an assumption we can make with Kensi or Sam or even Detective Deeks, because all of you can operate independently and without direct overwatch support. It was sloppy of us both."

"Yes, it was." G met her eyes. "It won't happen again."

"Unfortunately, it might. That, too, is the nature of our work."

"Okay. So...why are you apologizing to me, then?"

"Because you may refuse to acknowledge it, Mister Callen, but I know you well enough to know when you are troubled."

He opened his mouth to object, but shut it again at her expression. He sighed.

"He could have been hurt. Even if we got him out before it killed him, he could have been seriously... That kind of cold or heat could have damaged his hands, or his eyes. And then we wouldn't just have gotten him hurt – we'd have destroyed his career. His entire identity."

"He isn't entirely helpless, however," Hetty said.

"I know. Nell reminded me." Callen shook his head. "But he should never have been in that position."

"However, we put him there." Hetty glanced down at her hands. "And the truth is that we would do it again."

Callen hated that he could only nod.

"And so I owe you an apology, Mister Callen. This is your team, your agents, who have become far more than just people you work with. And yesterday a friend, perhaps even a member of your family, was in danger – and I did not fully anticipate it, nor did I prevent it. I have already apologized to Mister Beale as well."

"What'd he say?"

"He told me not to 'sweat it' and that he was 'all good' and it was nothing a round of his computer games would not relieve."

G smiled. "I guess Nell was right, then. He really is more resilient than we realize."

"We all are. That's why we're here." She turned to go.

"Still not your fault," Callen said after her.

She looked back at him. "Nor yours. But, in the end, everything that happens here rests on our shoulders, Mister Callen. So I suppose we must share this blame as well as our success."

"There's nobody I'd rather share that burden with than you." He turned back to his paperwork, but a smile tugged at his mouth.

"Thank you, Mister Callen. Good night."

"Good night, Hetty."


	46. S2E22 Plan B

So, here we go with te big ending of season 2 and the start of season 3! Did anybody else, upon the first watch-through, find their heart lodged in their throat during those episodes? Because eeeesh.

One funny one to begin, because I thought we all might need it. And then all the feels. Just lots of all the feels.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 2, Episode 22: Plan B

* * *

Hetty knew it was almost certainly a bad idea to let Callen and Sam serve as the 'execution squad' for Ray on the courthouse steps. Not because they couldn't handle it, of course, but because any time one combined Agent Callen with realistic firearms loaded with blood-pack rounds, he would shortly thereafter become utterly distracted by a related inclination.

 _Not_ , thankfully, to feign being shot himself – he had learned very early on that such was not worth the momentary humor. Callen had flinched at the very sight of blood-packs for six months after the one time he tried it in her presence.

"What do you think?" he asked the morning after Ray was safely away – again. "Wanna give it a shot?"

Hetty didn't even look up from her tea. "No."

"Aw, come on. It's been, what? A year?"

"Ten months, Mister Callen."

"Way too long."

She still didn't look up. If she was drawn in by that teasing grin, she would lose the battle, and she had far too much work to do to allow herself to be defeated now.

"I'll buy your next sack of tea from China."

In spite of herself, she found herself glaring at him. "Oh, that is a low blow."

He was practically rocking on his feet, bouncing and gleeful.

"You _know_ you wanna try to kick my ass again, Hetty."

"Mister Callen, if we do this, I shall indeed, as you say, kick your ass. As I have every other time I have given into this ridiculous request of yours."

"Ha!" He planted his hands on his hips. "Not every time. I distinctly remember painting you red at least once."

"You must have been concussed by all the headshots I made against you that day." A moment later, she realized she had lost.

 _Bugger, that boy is good._

And he knew it, too. Callen's grin went downright wicked. "Come on. I'll clear out the gym, you get the gear."

She let out an enormous sigh, rose slowly, and faced him with every bit of dignity she could manage. "I hope you have an appropriate change of clothes in your locker, Agent Callen."

"Do _you_?"

"You won't need to find out."

Callen laughed and strode off with a skip in his step to the gymnasium. Even before she reached the armory, she could hear him yelling.

"Everybody out! It's a red letter day!"

"What does that mean?" Deeks asked Kensi as Hetty went by.

"Hetty." Sam fell into step beside her. "He seriously talked you into doing this _again_?"

"What can I say, Mister Hanna? Mister Callen can be very persuasive."

"You want me to lay any money for you?"

"No, thank you. But please do encourage the usual stakes if you would." She gave him a small smile before settling into the work of loading the weapons with the blood-pack balls. "Oh, and give Detective Deeks a fair warning so he may make an _informed_ decision."

"Aw, killing all our fun." But he was teasing and she knew it.

Hetty snapped the cartridge in and met his eyes. "No. Killing your partner, I believe."

"I heard that, Hetty!" Callen yelled from the door.

"Oh, good. Now you can check your own weapon before I remind you why your desire to bait me will always land you in trouble."

An hour later, more than half of the gymnasium was covered in fake blood, the office needed to completely replace their blood-pack supplies, and Callen had enough artificial streaming wounds on his body to have bled out several times over.

And Hetty was still pristine head to foot, without so much as a splash of blood on her shoes.

Half the office, the half who had bet correctly, was rewarded with a fair sum of cash. The other half, and Callen, found themselves spending the rest of the morning glaring at their smug coworkers, swearing, and cleaning the entire gym top to bottom.

And when they were done, Hetty poured Callen a cup of tea and reviewed the entire competition, shot by shot, and pointed out every single move he had made that could be improved.

"Do they do this often?" Deeks asked quietly, but not quietly enough.

"About once a year," Kensi said.

"It's weird, though, right? I mean, paintball with _Hetty_? Who even came up with that idea?"

"Who knows?" Sam answered. "Some things have no explanation. _Especially_ those two."

And Callen and Hetty just exchanged knowing looks.


	47. S2E23 Imposters

Season 2, Episode 23: Imposters

* * *

He should have been listening. She had practically told him she was leaving. Every single sign had been there for him to spot, but the case had kept him from seeing it.

She had been avoiding him.

She had set up the pieces to play the game in her absence.

She had given him the advice to guide him in filling the hole she would leave behind.

And then she was gone.

 _Damn it all to hell._

He had seen it in her face. Her speech about leadership had been a ruse to keep him distracted, to keep him _feeling_ when he should be _thinking_.

She hadn't even said goodbye.

And now there was a woman calling Hetty's desk her own, whom Callen couldn't even stand to look at. Not right now, with Director Vance saying a whole lot of nothing.

He kept thinking about the silences where there should have been answers.

The excuses where there should have been reassurances.

The practical advice where there should have been wisdom.

He and Hetty had always spoken a hundred languages to each other in perfect quiet, had mastered a hundred ways of communicating all the things that could not be said. But now, when it mattered most, Hetty had not uttered a word in any of them.

Well, this silence was something he could not stand. Would not.

He lost track of how many messages he left her between leaving the office and making his way to two of the houses he thought her most likely to use – the two he thought she didn't realize he knew about. But the messages were all the same, even if the words changed. The meaning, and the desperation he couldn't keep out of his voice, was there.

"Hetty. It's me. You have to tell me what's going on. You _have_ to."

"Look, I know you didn't do this without good reason. I know you wouldn't just leave. I _know_ you. And you know me."

"Hetty, this all looks like...like you're not coming back. And you can't...you can't do that. Whatever this is, you _have_ to come back from it."

"I told you I would follow you. And I will. Just tell me where. Tell me where and I'll be there. Don't...don't do this. Not alone."

"Hetty. Please. Just...please."


	48. S2E24 Familia

Season 2, Episode 24: Familia

* * *

The silence was always the worst part of the job. The running, the shooting, the games of war, the tricks of the trade, these came and went in the blink of an eye and the rush of adrenaline.

But waiting in the silence for the next shot to ring out – that was the worst part.

Hetty tried to appreciate the silence while she could as she sat drinking tea around a table with a dead body to either side. It wasn't even the most grotesque circumstances under which she had sat to drink tea – though it might have been some of the most grotesque tea she'd ever sipped. Apparently the lower-ranked among the Comescu did not receive the type of cultural education to appreciate the difference between real tea and this thin leaf water.

The next Comescu to show up would be better-mannered, and more important. And he or she would lead her to her final goal. This message was one of blood, another stain on her hands that were black with the uncountable deaths from her past.

Even her own death would not wipe out the stain.

Though Hetty was in no hurry to die, she thought it likely that there was little or no other option. The Comescu head of the family might believe her that Callen was dead and kill her anyway. The head of the family might not believe her, and then she would be dead only after they attempted to torture his information from her.

If it came to that, Hetty was well ready to do whatever it took to end her own life before she could betray his. If it was the last act she could make for him, she would do it and gladly.

She hoped they would come soon. If she knew her agents, and she certainly did, it was only a matter of time before G Callen and his team pieced together enough information to follow her. Director Vance and Agent Hunter would stall, would deceive, would order them to stand down – but Hetty knew there would be blood on the floor before her team would stop coming for her.

She wanted this over before that happened. Win, lose, or draw, as it were – as long as the feud ended, as long as Callen could live free of the shadow of the Comescus' reach, she would be satisfied.

She hoped she was dead and cold before they even thought to leave Los Angeles.

Hetty sipped at the awful tea, no longer caring that it turned her stomach.

She had many, many regrets in her life. Chiefly amongst them now was that she had not said goodbye to any of them. Not to Eric and Nell, who had worked with her so diligently and loyally. Not to Deeks and Kensi, who were still finding their way. Not to Sam, in whose hands she must trust the boy she had raised. Not even to Lauren, who would be facing this alone, not revealing to the team her own place in the game. Not to any of the ones who mattered, wherever they were.

And she had not said goodbye to Callen.

Her death would be a terrible blow to him, she knew. She had always known that his world was made stable only by the steady presence of a few – herself and Sam, primarily. For months she had watched those two, had pushed them, had even tested them, to be sure that they were solid, their foundation unbroken and unbreakable. It would keep Callen alive when she was gone.

Of all the things she had said to him, the things she had not said mattered the most. She had never told him the truth. About himself, about her, about his past or his family. And she had never told him how very dearly she cared for him.

If all went well, she never would.

That silence between them would stretch to eternity.

But it was all she could do, and so she marched into that dark fate with her head up and her conscience clear. She would die, of course she would, but he would live and he would be safe, and at last she would have made her amends to the woman she could not save.

So she waited in the silence for the Comescus to come, and it was the worst wait of her life.


	49. S3E1 Lange, H

Season 3, Episode 1: Lange, H.

* * *

Hetty opened her eyes in a hospital room to find a very familiar young man staring at her from the chair beside her bed.

"Hetty." His voice was dry and raspy, as if he hadn't slept. Which, given how he looked, he clearly hadn't. "Don't try to talk."

She gave him a _look_. There was a tube down her throat. She was hardly going to be able to make a sound that way. Had he taken a blow to the head which was impairing his observation skills?

"You're...you're going to be okay. They said you lost a lot of blood, but the bullet was small. So…"

He trailed off, and she could see the mountains of questions in his eyes, overshadowed only by the legions of fear and near-grief.

 _Ah. No, he has taken a blow to the heart._

She held out a hand.

Callen grabbed onto it and held it delicately, as if she were made of glass.

"You're going to have to tell me everything." And he meant to say it playfully, teasingly. Instead, it came out heartbroken. "All of it. You have to tell me."

She had known that the instant she woke up alive. The fickle fates of the world had thrown her back into the game another time, and this was the price they would demand.

But G had come for her – and it was his due.

She nodded.

If anything, that gesture broke him a little more.

"God, Hetty. I thought...we almost didn't…"

She squeezed his hand.

His eyes were wet. "You came...to protect me. You could have died. To save me."

She nodded again.

"Don't…" And his voice broke. "Never again. Not for me. Please, Hetty. Next time, take me with you. I can't...I can't do this again."

It was a promise she could not make him, and he knew it. But he had to ask. Of course he did.

She released his hand and reached out. G bent his head down, letting her put her palm on his cheek. She smiled around the mask.

The risk had been worth it. The price would have been as well.

Her boy was alive, and he was here.

Even if his heart was breaking, he still had a heart to break.

She pulled gently until she could just tip her head up to touch his forehead with her own. His eyes closed, and she felt wetness on her cheek – and she could not tell if it was his tear or hers.

He drew in a shuddering breath and whispered, "Te iubesc."

Hetty's own heart felt a little broken and she tightened her grip on him. She could not say it back, but she knew he felt it. This time, the silence between them was not a blind, not a goodbye, but truth.

There would be many more difficult things to say in the coming days and weeks. Many things she ought to have told him before. Many truths she had kept from him. And there would be some she would keep still.

But they would have time, now.

G sat back but reclaimed her hand.

She gave him a look.

He shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere, Hetty. Not today, not tomorrow. Not until we're back home and I know you're safe. I'm not. I can't."

She accepted that with a small nod.

"Get some more rest," he said. "I'll tell the others you were awake the next time they check in. They've all been worried."

She squeezed his hand.

He made a small, slightly-uneven smile. "Yeah, something like that." He squeezed back. "Go to sleep. I'll be here. You're safe now."

It was a much grander promise, said in that way, with his eyes locked on hers, than it sounded to the untrained ear. But to one who knew G Callen's every look and feeling, sometimes before he knew them himself, she heard it all the same. She didn't know how many people he had killed to save her – and she knew he would kill a hundred more if they came for her now.

As she would do for him.

But first, she must heal. She could not protect him like this, and to see her so helpless upset him, too. So she accepted the necessity of sleep and let her eyes close.

But she did not release his hand again, and neither did he.

Hetty drifted into sleep feeling truly safe for the first time in many years.


	50. S3E2 Cyber Threat

So, when I set up my schedule for this year, I did not plan to be moving this week and next. That was NOT what I had in my schedule last August. But, here we are. So I am super way behind in replying to all of your lovely and wonderful comments, and I will continue to be behind for a while. Additionally, I may miss chapters next week – Monday is the day of movers and much furniture hauling and also (hopefully) setting up the internet at the new place.

If I do miss, I'll update as quickly as I can, I promise!

Anyway, this next set is kind of sad. If you recall, after the return from Romania, there are several episodes where the relationship between Callen and Hetty is thoroughly strained. And we won't see the resolution until next week. But, anyway. Here you go.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 3, Episode 2: Cyber Threat

* * *

The two months Hetty took "recuperating" at one of her houses was one of the longest periods G had gone without seeing her or speaking to her in years. It wasn't what he had intended at all. If he'd had his way, he'd have camped on her doorstep and shadowed her every move. But he didn't, at her own request.

As the plane from Romania had been landing at LAX, she had caught his eye.

"I need you to do something for me."

"Anything."

"I need you to go back to work. I'm going to need time and quiet, and I won't get it if my team isn't in the field doing what you do best."

He'd given her a look. "Who's going to run things?"

"Agent Hunter will continue to fill in as temporary Ops Manager."

Callen had glanced across the plane to where Lauren Hunter was steadfastly not looking their way, and he frowned.

"But you're going to come back. Right?"

"In time."

"Hetty…"

She had held up a hand. "I am trusting my operation to you, Mister Callen. Give me this opportunity to heal and to reflect. Take care of my city and take care of your team. And when I return...then we will have the conversation you have been waiting for."

He had shut his eyes.

"Do _you_ trust _me_ , Mister Callen?"

"Trust you? More than I should, probably. But…"

"I know." She had shaken her head. "You have questions. And doubts. And still you stand by me. It is a noble thing; don't think I don't appreciate your struggle."

He'd let out a breath and opened his eyes to face her once more.

"You're just going to take a little time at home, right? You're not going to disappear again?"

"I promise that I will not disappear."

"And it's just for a short while?"

"Until I can be effective again, yes."

"Okay." He nodded. "Can I…?"

"No." She had cut him off, knowing exactly what he would ask. "I think we both need some distance, Mister Callen, especially after all that has transpired and all the questions you have. I need you to leave me be. No more visits, no more popping out of the dark. Not until I return to work."

It made something in his eyes shutter closed even while he never broke her gaze, but he agreed.

Hetty had known perfectly well that he might not be able to hold to such a promise. Eventually, his impatience would become too great and he would make his way to her anyway. But if she could delay the inevitable, that would be enough.

Two months later, she was surprised that he held off as long as he did before he finally came looking for his answers.

She was less surprised when he left without them, because he trusted her still.


	51. S3E3 Backstopped

Season 3, Episode 3: Backstopped

* * *

"Lange, Henrietta, in case you've forgotten."

He could already feel the floor dropping out from under him.

Hetty was here. Hetty was here and Hunter was not. He asked about it to be sure, and she teased him. Hunter was gone, on assignment. Hunter was no longer the manager, which meant Hetty was back at work.

She had already prepared tea for two.

"I did it because of your mother."

Ice lanced into G's heart. Truth, finally, and it _burned_.

"You knew my mom?"

"Sit down. I'll tell you everything I know."

He practically collapsed into the chair where he had spent so many hours and evenings. He knew he was sitting in it like a sullen teenager, like the sullen teenager he'd been when she brought him home. His thoughts were in chaos, and his emotions were worse.

But Hetty was there, calm, and open. She was keeping her promise. She was giving him answers, telling him the truth, and he couldn't break down. Not now. Not if he wanted to know. And he had never, ever wanted anything more than to gather up whatever she might tell him like he was starving and begging for scraps of food.

Begging for scraps of _himself_.

He saw, but couldn't acknowledge, that there was uncertainty in Hetty, too. These were secrets she had held his entire life and, by the look of it, longer still. She knew she was opening some very old wounds in them both to keep this promise and give him his past. For a fleeting instant, Callen considered what this revelation would do to Hetty.

But he was too caught up in what it would do to himself.

"What was her name?"

"Clara."

And Hetty smiled, and G felt a part of his own heart die. That was Hetty's smile for him. Hetty's smile that meant approval and welcome and home and safety. If anything, it should have made him feel better that Hetty loved his mother as she loved him. Instead, if filled him with dread.

"Her name was Clara."

For the first time, G wondered if the truth about his lost past might actually make him lose something precious in his present – and his future.


	52. S3E4 Deadline

Season 3, Episode 4: Deadline

* * *

"Forgive me."

The words had driven Callen out of her chair, and she had let him go. She also ordered everyone who remained in the building out, and there must have been something in her eyes she failed to hide, for every person ran as if for their life. Before G Callen had even strung up the punching bag, she was the only one left to hear him.

Every strike, every sound that was between a shout and a sob, every ragged breath, they landed in the part of her soul that Hetty thought should have been nothing but callused scar tissue by now.

She could not unmake the decision to keep so much from him, and if she were honest with herself, she would not have done it any other way, even knowing this outcome.

But still. It was a fresh pain that she may have saved Clara's son, the boy she had watched over and partially raised, only to lose him now to her own machinations. It was a grief, this loss of trust. And yet, it had always been in the making.

Hetty had known from the very day she took in G Callen and did not tell him who he was, that the time would come that she would have to give him the truth.

And now she must pay that price.

The next day's case was a perfect mission to keep Callen and his team focused. Hetty could be very minimally involved, not even required to give orders to the team directly nor to be included in their comms. She was aware of their every move, of course, but she gave the impression that she was coordinating the efforts of the CIA to warn the Libyan rebels -which she was – and not that she was avoiding the team leader.

She could see it in him, though, the new weight that was hidden in his eyes when he could not help but remember. He didn't joke as much with the others, and there was a slowness to his smile even with Sam.

Hetty watched it all from a distance, and mourned.

She truly didn't know if she had lost his trust forever.

She didn't know if she deserved his trust anymore, either.

At the end of the case, he returned to ask about how he and his sister got from Romania to America. For a moment, Hetty felt a fragile hope that Callen might yet find it in himself to understand her choice and her impossible situation. But there was no warmth in him as he asked, nor as he watched her answers. He was wary, suspicious, even as his emotions ran raw across his face.

She gave him the envelope which held a picture of Clara, and for the first time in many, many years, Hetty's courage failed her.

She could have said more to him. She could have explained. She could have apologized.

But she didn't. She couldn't give him any more leverage than he already had, now that he was the one with the knowledge that had defined them both from the beginning. If she gave him any more power, even if it would soothe the divide between them, then she could not still be his boss. His boss could not beg for his forgiveness for doing her job and doing it so well that he was still alive. His boss could not ask him to do more than accept what had been.

And if she could not be all that she had been, if she must lose G Callen as the boy she had raised, she _would not_ relinquish her place as his final protector. She had protected him for so long, and she would go on doing so until her dying day, it seemed. And if she must do that only under the auspices of NCIS as Operations Manager, then that was what she would do.

It would break her heart, but he would be alive, and that had always been the point.

Now, though, it felt more hollow than ever.

She could barely stand to speak to him and see that his feelings were no longer hers, that his mind and his heart were no longer where she could reach them with a glance.

She had saved him, again and again, only to lose him now.

As he left with the envelope in his hand, his eyes distant and his jaw set, Hetty wondered if he also was thinking perhaps he never should have followed her to Romania after all.


	53. S3E5 Sacrifice

Sorry for the short hiatus, all! On the plus side, I have successfully hauled my household of stuff 15 miles north and up 12 stories, and though one whole room is still mostly boxes, at least it all fits.

Unfortunately, this means I left off at one of the critical turning points in the series, and for that I truly am sorry. At the end of episode 4, things are still super tense between Callen and Hetty, and for good reason. Episode 5, "Sacrifice," is the episode in which Sam's car is stolen, and Callen spends the entire episode making cracks about the stages of grief. But that little running theme never gets the payoff it deserves. I fixed it.

So, now we begin the healing of the rift.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 3, Episode 5: Sacrifice

* * *

Sam dropped Callen back at the office late – he'd stayed over for dinner after the shaky test-drive and initial assessment of the new car. Sam was giddier than G had seen him in months and he couldn't go more than ten minutes (four and a half when the girls weren't in the room) without circling back to the topic of the car and what he was going to do with it.

Sam had said thanks, too, but his enthusiasm was a far better thanks as far as G was concerned. He was just glad his partner was happy again.

As Sam drove off, the car still spitting a cloud of exhaust dense enough to serve as cover in a firefight, Callen glanced at the dark entrance to the building. He should walk right past it, get in his car, go home, and get some rest. He should, but he wasn't going to, and he knew it before he'd gotten out of Sam's car.

Because he could see that Hetty's car was still here.

They had barely spoken for weeks. Other than necessary exchanges during cases, Callen hadn't teased her or sought her out or even taken the time to bring her tea. The past that had united them once now divided them, a gulf that felt too wide to cross.

But today...

Before he could talk himself out of it, he pushed into the building.

Hetty sat at her desk, working on her laptop. The building was otherwise dark, and he knew it was empty save for the pair of them.

She looked up at once, and in the warm glow of Hetty's desk lamp, he could see a shadow of pain cross her face before she schooled her expression to something more neutral.

"Mister Callen?"

He swallowed. How could that simple question make him feel like a kid again, looking through windows to happy families and feeling so alone on the sidewalk?

"That was a good thing you did for Sam," she said. And only because he knew her so well did he hear the slight hitch in her tone. To anyone else, it would have sounded as it always had. As if nothing had changed between them. Instead of everything.

He nodded stiffly.

Hetty watched him for a long, silent moment. She must have seen something in his expression, because she returned to her laptop, deliberately giving him space.

And he realized he didn't want that.

"Four."

She raised her head again. "I beg your pardon?"

G cleared his throat. He didn't take another step closer to her, leaving her office chairs and the carpet enough distance between them.

But he felt himself moving towards her anyway.

"Stages of grief." His voice caught on the words. "I'm...I'm working on number four. Out of five."

"I see." She regarded him intently.

"When...when I get to the acceptance stage..."

Whatever she read in his face made her smile, a real smile, the first time he'd seen it since she had spoken his mother's name.

"I will still be here, Mister Callen. No matter how long it takes."

And it took a weight out of his soul to hear that. He dipped his head. "Okay."

It wasn't forgiveness. It wasn't even any sort of decision about where they would go from here. But it was a start.

"Hetty…" He couldn't do more than he'd done, but it felt like maybe it was enough. "See you tomorrow."

"Good night, Mister Callen."


	54. S3E6 Lone Wolf

Season 3, Episode 6: Lone Wolf

* * *

When he'd told Deeks he had plans, Callen hadn't really been certain. It was more a hope of plans than anything else.

With more strength than it took to walk into a dangerous mission with a flimsy backstory, he walked into Hetty's office as he had done countless times. He asked about the scotch as if it were a year ago and nothing had changed.

It was an invitation. His move in their game being played.

And Hetty accepted that overture and returned it with interest.

"Care to join me?"

He didn't let her see his face as he answered, mostly because he knew there was too much in it that he just wasn't ready to give away. But he heard her own uncertainty, and her own hope that he would keep playing this game, that he would continue the dance of moves between them.

"I thought you'd never ask."

And Callen knew he didn't imagine the relief in Hetty as she poured the glasses.

He hadn't been unaware of the fact that he wasn't the only one suffering from the distance between them; he'd seen the remorse and the guilt in her every day since she had come back to work. He had been mostly concerned with his own pain, but he had known she had her share.

But, finally, G felt that there had been enough pain for both of them, maybe several lifetimes over.

He had also reached the point where he could start thinking about his mother the way Hetty must have – as a friend, yes, but also an asset. And, when he could truly be honest with himself, he realized that there wasn't much else Hetty could have done. If he had been in her place, if he had lost an asset and was left searching for a pair of children, and then was faced with one trapped in an endless cycle of orphanages, G might not have been able to do even as much as she had.

And he could understand why she had never told him. Because that was the job. Just as she had raised him to it, he had lived it. He could hate it, he could think she was wrong, but he could understand it.

And if he could understand that, if he could see the situation as an agent and not as the boy who had been at the center of the storm, then he could finally do as Hetty had asked.

He could finally forgive her.

Callen lifted his glass to her, and didn't miss the sorrowful hope in her eyes as she watched him so closely. "To old friends."

It was a good thing the scotch was terrible – otherwise neither of them would have had an excuse for the tears in their eyes.

But they both finished that drink. Together.

G set down his glass as Hetty packed the bottle away; clearly it was meant to be a keepsake and not consumed.

"You shouldn't have gone without us," he said.

"Basser was an old friend. I was never in any real danger."

"He had a gun." Something in Hetty's eyes gave her away and Callen leaned forward. "He pulled it on you, didn't he? He wasn't dead when you got there at all. You warned him."

"He made a choice to accept the consequences of his actions in his own way, rather than have them thrust upon him by the legal system."

"What if you'd been wrong?" G could feel his heart speeding up in his chest. "What if he had decided to take you down with him, or fight his way out, or use you as a hostage?"

"I find that very unlikely, Mister Callen." She let out a breath. "However, if events had transpired differently, I knew you and Mister Hanna would be there momentarily and I would, once again, be entirely safe with the two of you to assist me as necessary."

It was like pulling on his favorite old sweatshirt – it was comfortable, this give-and-take of concern and control and trust. His fear on her behalf, her certainty that he would come for her, their mutual assumption that they would take care of one another when bullets started to fly.

G shook his head and barked a laugh. "You really never do quit, do you, Hetty?"

"Not for a moment."

"Well, maybe for a moment." He smirked, and he could see the effect it had on the shadows in her eyes. "I mean, you _did_ try to resign."

"Until you stole my letter." And now her own face was twisting in a near-smile.

And suddenly Callen realized that she had _always_ known this would happen. She had cared for him, had taught him, had prepared him for the world, always assuming that one day either she would die to atone for failing to save his mother, or he would hate her when he learned the truth – and either way, she would lose him. Hetty had spent all the years they had shared waiting for the day that he would be gone.

Yet still she had loved him, protected him, and would have died for him. Even if he would have hated her with all his heart for it.

His stomach turned over. How could she have sat there, day after day, never knowing when the shoe would drop and he would turn on her? How could she have been his constant fixed point while waiting for everything between them to turn to ash?

G thought perhaps he could live ten lifetimes and never approach the courage and fortitude of Henrietta Lange.

She saw something change in his face and she leaned forward. "Mister Callen?"

"Hetty." It was too much to say. Too much to explain. He looked at her and he hoped that she could still read him as she always had. He was sure his eyes were betraying him – he hoped they were telling her everything so he didn't have to try to find words.

She blinked and her expression went soft. "Oh, my dear boy."

And just when he thought one or both of them might shatter right then and there, she stood up.

"Mister Callen." And her voice was masterfully even and controlled. "I believe I could use a proper drink after that awful scotch. I should very much like some company. Unless you have other plans for the evening?"

She was still saving him. Even now.

Could he ever truly have hated her? Could he truly have gone through life without being able to forgive her? Could he ever have turned his back on her?

G was overwhelmed with gratitude that he would never find out.

"Honestly?" And though he made a normal smile, there was a new gravity in his voice. "There's nothing I would like more than that, Hetty."

He stood up and held her coat for her, and offered her his arm. And before they were even out of the building, before they spent the evening relearning all their silent ways of saying the things that neither would ever put to voice, before they found a stronger connection than the divide of the past which had torn at them – before they even touched the night air, they knew.

They were going to be all right. They were going to be whole again.

And if this had not broken what lived between them, than nothing on earth ever would.


	55. S3E7 Honor

As a reminder, this is the first episode where we get a hint of Sam's assignment with Jada. No details, just a tiny conversation implying that he is regularly going abroad on a mission Callen doesn't know anything about.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 3, Episode 7: Honor

* * *

He caught her in the burn room in a quiet moment.

"So, Sam was telling me about this...coffee pot he's been dealing with."

Hetty chuckled. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

Callen smirked. "Apparently."

"And you have interest in his _coffee pot_ , then, Mister Callen?"

"Not exactly." He leaned on the door-frame. "I just want to know why he's out there making coffee on his own."

"You know as well as anyone that certain tasks must be undertaken alone," she told him.

"Yeah, but he said this one came with a mug. A...distracting mug."

Hetty gave him an affronted look. "I am very well aware of the situation and all its particulars."

"Right. So...if the mug is distracting, and if the coffee pot is slow to brew, how come he has to do it on his own? There's other people who could make coffee for him."

"I am finding this analogy to be rather tedious, Mister Callen." Hetty crossed her arms. "You want to know why you have not been involved in Sam's covert assignment abroad."

"Yeah. I do."

"Quite frankly? Because where he is going, and what he is doing, is in an environment where you would stick out like the proverbial sore thumb."

G opened his mouth to argue and she stopped him with a glance.

"I know Sam is your partner, and I know you worry – especially when you are not there personally to oversee his safety. But you need to trust me that right now Sam has a competent overwatch to guard his back. And I need you here."

"Why?"

"We don't know how long Mister Hanna's assignment will be," she said. "It has been over a year already and, though it should be drawing to its conclusion soon, it may go on for several more months. I can't have both of you halfway around the world in the field that often. I can spare one agent – not two."

Callen sighed. It was, of course, the correct and only answer. But he didn't have to like it.

"Just...if things are coming to a head, that's usually when they go really south. Promise me that he's going to be okay."

"Of course he will." She shook her head at him. "And if not, then I trust that Sam's partner will be there to lend a hand as well. And, because Sam's partner won't have been burned already, he will be in a position to do something."

G nodded. "You better believe it."

She smiled. "I certainly do, Mister Callen. I certainly do."


	56. S3E8 Greed

I'll admit it – this is the introduction of the one and only OC I will introduce to this series, ever. My beta reader assures me that it is very much worth it. This will not impact canon in ANY way. It just gives Callen a…friend.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 3, Episode 8: Greed

Hetty's phone dinged and she sighed.

The major problem of having Sam Hanna undercover halfway across the world wasn't the loss of one of her agents and therefore a pile of work upon the shoulders of the other three. Two – Deeks wasn't an agent, technically.

Two-and-a-half, perhaps.

No, the major problem was that, with Sam out of touch for long periods of time, there was no one else to take G Callen's ridiculous texts every hour of the day.

Hetty looked at her phone.

"There is a cat in my yard."

"Oh for the love of Gucci." She sighed and replied, swapping to Czech just to keep in practice, "Is this a matter which requires intervention?"

Callen sent her a smiley face. Hetty snorted. Deeks must have been responsible for that particular innovation. G Callen was not an emoji sort of person.

His next text was also in Czech. "I don't think it has a home."

She raised an eyebrow and sent, "Are you considering adopting it?"

"No." That response was too quick – he had been ready for her question. "But I don't want it to die or get hit by a car. Roadkill is bad for property values."

Hetty wondered how long it had been since Callen had slept. The absence of his partner left him slightly un-grounded, and therefore he tended towards erratic patterns of sleeping and eating. All of which ended with a strong impact upon his sense of humor.

"You could take it to the humane society."

There was a long pause this time before he responded. "What if it can't find a good family?"

Hetty shook her head. In some ways, that boy would never truly surpass his history. And would never grow up. He saw himself in the eyes of every orphan in the world, and apparently this was extended to feral cats.

A moment later, another text arrived.

"Do cats live in dog Gouda?"

She blinked.

Ah, of course. Autocorrect. Neither of their phones was really meant to handle Czech, after all. She could hardly blame the piece of technology for misinterpreting the word 'bouda' as 'Gouda.'

Another text arrived, in English this time.

"I'm making Eric add all the necessary alphabets to this phone."

"I think that would be wise," she sent. Then, "I cannot imagine that a cat would require a house when you have a perfectly serviceable porch. But it might appreciate some food sometimes."

"Okay."

Hetty laughed. She could already see him in his barren kitchen, looking through his cupboards for something resembling appropriate food. She thought the chances were about even that he might have nothing at all appropriate or a whole fillet of salmon in his fridge depending on how he felt about cooking this week. Either way, that cat was about to make itself a friend for life.

Two hours later, she received a final text from Callen on the matter.

"Now I'm all out of tuna, and he's asleep on the sidewalk. I am naming him Gouda."

She let out a satisfied breath and said to herself, "Well, at least he has someone to keep him company while Sam is away."

And she made sure to buy a packet of cat treats and put it in Callen's locker in the morning.


	57. S3E9 Betrayal

Season 3, Episode 9: Betrayal

* * *

Hetty never knocked when she came into his house, apparently. He wasn't surprised anymore, of course. It was fair, since he never knocked when he went to any of her houses, either.

This time, he wasn't sure if he was glad to see her or not when she appeared in his front hall.

"How's your partner?" she asked.

He shook his head. "What, no 'hi, how was Sudan?'"

Hetty just looked at him.

"He's okay." Callen held out the bottle of beer he had just taken out of the fridge, but she shook her head. "He's home."

"There are few wounds we can take which are not eased when surrounded by the ones we love."

Callen gave her an amused look. "Is that why you're here?"

"I'm just checking on my agents." She said it with an innocent shrug that wouldn't fool an unhatched goldfish.

G found himself smiling anyway. "Want some tea?"

"Do you actually have _tea_? Or is it merely shredded grass clippings in little baggies?"

He couldn't help himself. He laughed. "Would I ever let you down when it comes to your tea, Hetty?"

"Actually, no, I don't believe you would, Mister Callen. Tea would be lovely."

"Sure thing. Make yourself at home."

She followed him into the kitchen, claiming his one chair while he bustled around the kitchen, grateful he actually had a mug that was clean. It wasn't one of Hetty's delicate cups, but at least it didn't have coffee grounds in it. While the kettle heated, he leaned on one wall and considered the turnabout.

"It's about time, don't you think?" she asked. "For me to be welcome in your home?"

G could have pointed out that Hetty would have been welcome anywhere he spent a night, even the ugliest of flophouses or the cheapest of motels. But she knew that. It hadn't been about welcome – it had been about a place. A place that wasn't temporary.

A place she had given him, incidentally.

So he just nodded.

"Still, it is nice to have you back stateside where I can keep an eye on you. Both of you." She folded her hands. "There's nothing easy about sending my agents into danger, especially so far from where I can be of any help to them."

He could see the ache in her, the way their safety was a weight on her shoulders.

"But we're home now," G said.

"Thanks to you, Mister Callen." Hetty met his eyes. "Your partner is safe with his family tonight because you were there to get him out." She swallowed. "You were right. You should have been with him."

"When it really counted, I was."

The kettle whistled, and Callen was able to break from her gaze to pour the water into the cup. He set the tea to steep and brought it to her at the table. Rather than retreating to the other end of the room again, he perched on his counter so he could sit across from her.

Hetty raised an eyebrow at him.

He grinned and saluted her with his beer. "It _is_ my house."

"Indeed." She looked into her cup for a moment, then regarded him. "I know this isn't what either of us wants to think about, but I want you to know."

The look Hetty turned on him was electric. It was the power of hellfire that she could wield, could and did, when the occasion called for it.

"If that had been Sam's body the CIA recovered…"

G met her hellfire with his own, his conviction unwavering. "I'd have killed them all."

"Officially, I would never endorse that." She delicately dipped her spoon into her tea to pull out the leaves. "However, I'm glad to know we are on the same page."


	58. S3E10 The Debt

Season 3, Episode 10: The Debt

* * *

Callen was very careful not to look at Hetty as he finished his paperwork about the Deeks case with Quinn. She was equally careful not to look at him.

It was an agreement made without words, made in the tension of avoidance, made with a tacit certainty that it was better to keep this particular silence in place.

Quinn had been bought by Fisk, and the price Fisk had asked in return was his very life.

It wasn't them – but it could have been.

Hetty had never specifically asked Callen to take up the sword on behalf of king and country. She had given him an opportunity, had shown him a path, but she had not forced him to walk it. She had never used their connection, their history, to make him into anything he hadn't chosen for himself.

But it would be very, very hard for them to prove that to anyone else.

It was why, even now, the fact that their shared experience stretched back to when G Callen was fifteen years old was a very closely guarded secret. No matter how much trust Director Vance had in either of them, he would separate them if he knew their relationship was more than just mentor and agent. Even if he knew they would not be compromised by their connection, he would need the plausible deniability.

They weren't Fisk and Quinn, but the similarities were enough to be uncomfortable.

So this time, they simply gave Kensi and Deeks the space to get reacquainted, and, without so much as exchanging a glance, let everything that needed to be said hang in the weight of the silence which was always between them.


	59. S3E11 Higher Power

Season 3, Episode 11: Higher Power

* * *

"You should spend Christmas with Mister Hanna and his family."

G blinked over his mug at where Hetty had sidled up beside him. An impromptu singalong had broken out across the office, and in one corner it appeared to be turning into a dance-off as well. Deeks, to no one's surprise, was conducting the singing. Kensi, to even less surprise, was definitely _not_ singing no matter how many times he tried to cue her for a solo.

Callen considered her. "Is this your way of telling me you don't want me around this year?"

"No." She shook her head. "You always have a place at my table, Mister Callen, if you wish it. However, Sam's children won't be children forever. You don't want to miss the time you have with them."

G couldn't in good conscience argue that point. He was 'Uncle Callen' and had been for years. Sam's family was the nearest thing G might ever get to his own. And he really was curious about that plastic pony.

"I meant what I said. 'To friends and the family we have.'" He tipped his head in her direction. "That means you, too, Hetty."

"A fact for which I am more grateful than I can tell you." And it was all in her smile. "Especially after recent events."

"Hmm." He nodded. "But...maybe _because_ of recent events, we should make sure that we both know that things aren't going to change."

Because they could have, and they both knew that, too. The revelation of Callen's history could have destroyed the trust that bound him and Hetty – that it hadn't was a different kind of miracle. A very human miracle of forgiveness and loyalty and trust.

Hetty shut her eyes and nodded. "Very well. Then I shall expect you for supper on Christmas Eve. And please do not try that stunt with the garland again."

He grinned. "After last time? You know I've got something else planned."

"I tremble with fear, Mister Callen." But she was smiling.

"You know...if you wanted to come with me to Sam's on Christmas Day, I'm sure you'd be welcome."

"No, I think it's best if I continue to maintain my distance at this point."

"Oh. Really." Callen reached into his pocket for his phone. "Good thing somebody doesn't agree."

He held out a text from Sam's wife received earlier in the day.

"We open presents at 9am sharp, and I expect you AND Hetty to be here. Or else I will let the kids pelt you both with balled-up wrapping paper all afternoon."

Hetty laughed. "Well. I suppose I have my orders, then."

"I suppose you do."

"Hey!"

They both looked up as Deeks yelled and pointed their way.

"Get over here! I need everybody to take a verse for 'The Twelve Days of Christmas' and Hetty looks like a partridge to me!"

"Oh my god." G buried his face in his hand, nearly clocking himself in the nose with his phone as he did so. He looked over to Hetty. "Please don't shoot him. I mean, I get it. But just don't."

"Oh, I won't."

Callen should have run at the gleam in her eye.

Hetty set off across the floor. "Come along, Mister Callen. If I'm a partridge, then we need you to be one of the fowl in honor of your birdlike qualities."

"Yes!" Deeks cheered with both arms up in the air. "Callen, you're the geese-a-laying."

"Oh my god," Callen said again.

"Don't shoot him," Hetty told him, "and sing."


	60. S3E12 The Watchers

Hello all!

Sorry I'm a day late. Here's hoping I get my act together soon!

This next set was pretty fun. We get, in 4 episodes, the introduction of Owen Granger, Jada Khaled's explosive exit from protective custody, Callen and Sam's 5 year anniversary, and the introduction of the Chameleon (or Crimeleon) villain. It's quite a ride!

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 3, Episode 12: The Watchers

* * *

Owen Granger was going to be a problem.

He was also, uncomfortably enough, tied tightly into Hetty's history, and knew far too much. Of course, that was a sword that cut both ways – she knew enough about him to ruin him as easily as he could ruin her. It was a game of scales carefully balanced, of secrets and missions and shared disasters that hung in a delicate equilibrium. Unless one of them sent it crashing to the ground.

Hetty wasn't at that point yet, of course. But the threat was there, for both of them, and he knew it.

The only reason she ever allowed Owen to play his game with her agents that night, to signal that she was in danger and let them come to her rescue, was to prove a point. Not to her agents, not that she was subject to his will. No, never that. Mister Callen said it himself later – if he had truly been an enemy, she would have taken him apart before they ever arrived.

Bless that boy and his unending faith in her, in spite of everything.

It had been an illustration for Owen. Proof that this team was not simply a unit of investigators or troubleshooters, but, in fact, the elite. And they had not let her down.

Callen had entered first, because of course he had. Not knowing the situation, not knowing the threat, of course that boy would put himself in harm's way to reach her. Hetty would have liked to see him with better control over those protective instincts, but it was also something she deeply appreciated about him – once G Callen's loyalty was well and truly given, he would die before taking it back.

He had entered slowly, warily, ready at any moment to pull his gun, to pull her out of danger, to throw himself between her and a grenade or a bomb. But he had never stopped moving once he entered. He had closed the distance carefully until he was within range to protect and shield her – but with Owen in the room, Callen had not simply moved to rescue. He had angled around her, slowly shifting Owen's focus, putting himself between them so Owen could not reach Hetty unless he went through Callen first.

And then he had circled just a little more, putting her into Owen's blind spot.

It wasn't for the benefit of the team that Callen had shifted Owen's angle, had caused him to turn. It was for Hetty. Callen and Hetty both knew the team would be where they needed to be, would make a successful entry and would approach from the correct vectors without making a sound. But Callen had forced Owen to turn his back to Hetty, giving her an opening as well.

Because Callen trusted Hetty, trusted her to guard his back as he would trust Sam, and wanted to make sure she could take a shot if a shot needed to be taken.

It was better than textbook. It was expert.

It was also, Hetty reflected later, exactly what he was doing with Owen in daylight.

Owen might give Callen and his team a case, might issue commands or make decisions, and all the while, Callen kept the man's attention on himself. He had already proven he was close to Hetty, which was enough to gain Owen's attention and curiosity. And now he was keeping Owen in the dance with himself, freeing Hetty to act. Without a word, without more than a knowing glance, Callen was playing the exact same game over the course of days that he had played in a matter of seconds.

Unfortunately, Hetty knew Owen well enough to know that he might recognize it.

Fortunately, there wasn't a damn thing Owen could do about it.

Callen would play this game and would force Owen to handle him directly, would keep Owen having to concentrate on Callen and the team, and would keep moving such that Owen would always need to be watching his feet or he might miss a step. In the first day, Callen opened multiple opportunities for Hetty to make moves of her own.

Which she did, albeit in secret.

Owen said he was not afraid of her. Hetty told him that was his first mistake. And it had been.

The second was that he was also turning his back to her again.

When Owen had come for Hetty for his ridiculous test, she was more annoyed than anything else. If he came for her agents now, she would be rather more than just annoyed. And she would again be in his blind spot, with an opening created by her finest agent.

She didn't intend to shoot him, not physically, anyway. Probably.

But metaphorically?

As always, Mister Callen would protect her, of course, but he also knew when to let her take her shot. She would not let him down. And if the choice had to be made, well, the ending this time around might be very different indeed.


	61. S3E13 Exit Strategy

Season 3, Episode 13: Exit Strategy

* * *

Callen was a little worried that Sam wouldn't go home after the day they'd had, doubly so after the briefing from Eric tracking Jada's brother to Spain. He'd offered to do some sparring with his partner, just to see if that would help him regain his state of mind enough to return to his family as usual.

But Sam, resilient beyond measure, proved his strength yet again and pulled himself back under that iron control, back to the place where the world of his job and the world of his family were miles apart – back to where there was no intersection of "Agent Hanna" and "Dad."

G saw him off, and even got a good smile out of him. They both knew it wasn't a real smile, but it was good enough to fool most of the family; Callen had his doubts about Sam's wife because that woman was terrifyingly sharp. But it would be enough to get him through the evening.

Alone in the office for the first time in a while, G thought on what Hetty had said before leaving. "Sooner or later, our sins seem to catch up to us."

He hadn't really thought about it, but he could sort of see where Hetty was drawing a parallel. After all, it was she who had lied to him for so long, who had risked his trust in order to complete her mission – even if her mission had been to keep him safe and alive, and had come not from her superiors, but from herself. His own sense of betrayal, while different from Jada's, had been no less acute.

But that was all behind them now. G had made his choice, and his choice meant holding onto the family he had – and that included Hetty.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to remind her of that.

Especially with Assistant Director Owen Granger away.

G trotted over to Hetty's desk and grabbed one of her little notepads. He didn't quite know what he was going to say, but he thought it was worth saying regardless, so he let himself ramble for the length of the small square of paper.

Just in case, though, he put it in Romanian.

"If our bad deeds catch up to us, so do our good ones. We all make choices, some of them better than others. But, in the end, if we look around and the world is a little better? Then we probably did what needed to be done. And you have done more than anyone I've ever known, and not just for me. It may not all have been good, but, for me, I wouldn't have it any other way."

In the morning, he found a small square of paper in his locker with Hetty's handwriting, also in Romanian.

"What I have done may not be simple, and much of it is worse than I hope you ever know. And there is no point in idle speculation about what might have been. That said, those means led to these ends. And if you are content, then I can be as well. Thank you."


	62. S3E14 Partners

Season 3, Episode 14: Partners

* * *

Sam and G exchanged a look that was lightning fast and spoke volumes. Then they both turned and followed Hetty to the door.

"Hey, wait up!" Callen called after her.

She paused and turned back. "Something you need? Besides my scotch?"

"Yeah." Sam glanced at his partner, then held out a hand. "Wanted to thank you."

"Thank me, Mister Hanna?"

"You're the one that paired us up," Callen said. "You're the one that recruited Sam to be my partner."

"Ah." She smiled and accepted Sam's hand, shaking it with her steady, firm grip. "Well. I can honestly say that helping good agents find partners they can trust completely is one of the true joys of my position, and yours is a match I've been grateful to have made more times than I can count."

"Us, too," Sam said.

She met his eyes for a moment and they both looked at G together.

He shifted his attention between them. "What?"

Hetty patted Sam's hand that she still held. "You are more than I ever could have hoped for."

Sam was going to reply, but Callen interrupted.

"You two are doing that taking-care-of-me thing again, aren't you?"

Sam shrugged at him. "Face it, G. You need a keeper."

"More than one," Hetty said.

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself." But even as he said it, protesting with every inch of force he could muster, he knew they could read the lie in it. Oh, he could handle himself on any given assignment, could survive whatever tomorrow's terrorists or mobs or cartels might throw at him. But to live through life, to exist without family, to maintain his sanity through the silence – for that, he was entirely in their debts and he knew it well.

As he'd said just today, sometimes his partner was the only thing that kept him sane.

The only other thing that did that was the woman who raised him.

So he protested because he was supposed to, but it was hollow and they all knew it. And he was so, so grateful that they did know, that he didn't need to tell them, that they could read him well enough even when he didn't have the words for it.

So they played along.

"Of course you are," Sam said with the kind of pitying tone he usually reserved for Deeks.

"I don't believe this. I come over here to thank you for five years." He poked his partner in the arm, careful to aim for where he knew Sam had a bruise – because he was still sore from Sam's somewhat-fake beat-down and was going to sport some spectacular colors for the next week, thank you very much – and would have poked Hetty except he liked having all his limbs in working order. "And to thank you for making it happen, and this is what I get?"

"Apparently." But Hetty was smiling. "And after five years of it, you really shouldn't be surprised anymore."

"I'm really not." He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Well, I guess this means I'll be celebrating our anniversary with my beer by myself."

"Aw, don't be like that, partner." Sam had let go of Hetty and was facing him now. "Come on. We can open that champagne."

"No, no." Callen shook his head. "You wanted to save that for a _special_ occasion. Keep saving it, then, buddy."

Sam looked back at Hetty. "Is it too late to request a partner swap? I'm willing to housebreak Deeks for a week or two until he calms down."

"I'm not the one who has a problem here," G said. "You're the one who thinks I need some kind of watchdog babysitter."

"Because you _do_."

"And this is why most partnerships – and marriages – break up after two years. I'm definitely seeing it now."

Hetty sighed. "All _right_. That's enough." She glared at them both. "If I buy the first round, will that put an end to this ridiculous game you're playing?"

To both their credit, Sam and G maintained their poker faces perfectly. Unfortunately, neither one of them had ever been able to fool Hetty. She knew their undercover work too well.

"It's no game," Sam said. "It's just a day in the life with a partner who can't be honest with himself and doesn't appreciate everything I do for him."

"Can't be honest with himself? Me? My life is an open book compared to yours, Sam."

"Boys!" Hetty nearly stamped her foot, but she maintained her dignity in the face of the agents who did not. "Two rounds, and I'll get us into the back room at Alfred's. But _only_ if you knock it off right now."

G and Sam continued to look at one another in a vaguely antagonistic manner. Then G shrugged.

"It's a pretty good deal."

"Not quite as good as her scotch," Sam agreed. "But acceptable."

Callen grinned at her. "We're in."

Hetty made a frustrated sound. "You two are incorrigible."

The partners shook hands and pounded one another on the back.

"You gotta admit," Sam said. "It worked."

"Only because I knew precisely what you were doing." Hetty tossed her head. "Though I commend you on your performance. Mister Beale would have been very distraught."

"But not you?" Callen raised an eyebrow.

"The day _may_ come when I don't recognize you two playing me, but it is not today," she told him.

Callen shot his partner another quick look and Sam nodded.

"I'll grab our stuff." And he returned to the bullpen, leaving Hetty and Callen with a bit of privacy.

"Thanks, Hetty."

She shook her head, but she was smiling faintly. "A few rounds are the least I can do for all your hard work over the last five years."

"No, not that." G let all the artifice fall from his expression and held out his own hand. "Thank you for finding Sam. For bringing him in. For making him my partner."

"Oh, Mister Callen." She clasped his hand in both of hers. "All I did was provide the potential. You're the one who truly made him your partner and everything else."

"Yeah, but...without you, there's no telling if I ever would have found somebody like him to be my...my brother." He stumbled over the word, not because it was wrong, but because it was right. "And without that...I don't think I'd be who I am today."

Hetty's face was soft, and her eyes were unexpectedly full of emotion. "I think you are both better for your friendship, and I as well. Thank you, Mister Callen, for letting Sam into your heart."

G swallowed a lump in his throat and said, softly, with his voice not quite breaking, "Thank you for teaching me how to have one."

"I did nothing of the sort. Your heart comes from you, my boy, not me."

And they might have stood there going back and forth forever but for Sam popping up a moment later.

"Y'all ready to go?"

"Yeah." Callen pulled his feelings back under control, though he knew that Sam could see some of them on the surface. And he found he didn't mind too much, after all. "Can I drive?"

Sam chuckled. "Not a chance."

"What, not even for our anniversary?"

"Not even."

"Never mind." Hetty stepped resolutely between them and pushed open the door. " _I'm_ driving."

Sam glanced at Callen. "Should I be nervous?"

"Not if you wear your seatbelt." He grinned at his partner. "Which is kind of like me riding with you, so…"

"Watch it, or I'll come after you with that crowbar again."

"Try it and I'll sic Hetty on you."

They bickered all the way to Hetty's car. She, in response, made sure to drive as wildly as possible to the restaurant, just to give them something else to complain about for a while. It wouldn't last – they'd both be dead before they would ever stop their banter with each other altogether – but it made for a nice reprieve.

And it was just one more piece of evidence in a staggering, mountainous pile:

Agents Callen and Hanna truly and whole-heartedly deserved one another.


	63. S3E15 Crimeleon

Season 3, Episode 15: Crimeleon

* * *

"It's not your fault."

Callen looked up, somehow not surprised that Hetty had found him here, sitting in an out-of-the-way bench on a beach. If there was one thing he really enjoyed about Los Angeles, it was the golden sunsets that made the water look like fire.

He was never really sure if he should be worried about the way he associated sunsets and fire or not.

Callen shook his head at Hetty. "He was right there in front of me in the hospital, and I didn't see it. And now he's killed people in three countries, and he's going to kill more."

Hetty sat on the bench beside him.

"If we blamed ourselves for every terrorist who slipped through our hands, we wouldn't have time to sleep. We can do many things very well, Mister Callen, but we all make mistakes."

"And then he sent a con artist into our boatshed. I was looking him in the eye, and I didn't see that, either." He let out a breath. "What the hell am I doing here if I can't see someone operating undercover?"

"You're doing your job. And you're doing the best you can do."

G shook his head. "You'd have seen it. If you'd been there, you wouldn't have missed it."

"You can't know that." She folded her hands. "I'm as human as you, Mister Callen, and just as prone to mistakes, if not moreso."

Callen huffed a laugh. "You're never going to convince me of that."

Hetty smiled. "And you will never convince me that you are at fault for the actions of our Chameleon."

He swallowed. "Hetty...he knows where I live. He knows…"

"He knows the people you care about," she finished. "I assume there was some threat to us all? Revenge himself upon you by mowing down the people you love?"

"Something like that."

"Well." She cleared her throat. "Then I do hope he makes an attempt on me first."

Callen's eyes widened and he turned to her in rapid alarm. " _What_?"

Hetty was making a small, deadly smile. "If he does, I assure you, he won't be a problem for us for very long."

Callen was caught between laughter and exasperation. "Do me a favor? _Please_ don't mess with this guy?"

"He messed with us first," she said. "That must be answered for, Mister Callen."

"He's killed so many people, Hetty. I can't…"

"You _can_." She met his eyes and held them. "You _can_ , and you _will_. It's what you do."

He wanted to argue, but he sighed instead and nodded.

"Also?"

"Also?" he repeated.

"Please stop blaming yourself for not catching this man." She gave him a sly look. "If you hold yourself responsible for all this, then that means you are agreeing with Owen, and that doesn't sit well with me."

This time, G let himself laugh.


	64. S3E16 Blye, K Part 1

These are a little short, though the episodes involving them certainly weren't simple. But given some of the weightiness of the previous set, and those at the end of the season, I don't think it hurts to have a few lighter ones. No cat this week, though.

But, never fear – Gouda will return!

In the meantime, enjoy!

* * *

Season 3, Episode 16: Blye, K Part 1

* * *

He texted her from the car on the way to Kensi's to check out her computer. Sam and Deeks were arguing about driving directions or maybe the radio station – he wasn't really paying attention.

"You don't think she did this, right?"

Hetty's response was immediate. "No."

"It doesn't look good, though."

"No it does not."

Callen forced himself to take a deep breath. "Tell me you have a plan."

"Yes. Find the truth."

"No, not just that." He swallowed as he typed. "Something else."

"Yes."

It was a relief. If Hetty was ready, if she had a backup plan, if she had a way out, then Kensi was in the best hands he could ask for. He didn't want her to be just okay – he wanted to clear her name, find the real killer, bring Kensi some peace, and give her the chance to see justice for her father's death. Kensi was one of his team, one of his family. She was one of the strongest people Callen knew, and he hated seeing her brought low like this.

If he couldn't make this right, he could trust that Hetty would.

Callen didn't ask what her plan was, what strings Hetty would pull or what contingencies she had in place. He needed not to know so he couldn't be forced to reveal them.

His phone buzzed again.

"Kensi is one of ours," Hetty had typed. "No matter what happens."

G nodded, even though he understood the double message in her words. Kensi was theirs, their agent, their teammate, and they would fight for her and protect her and guard her back to the end.

However, on the other hand, if they had all been fooled, if she really was guilty of this, if she was not who he knew, he _knew_ she was, then they and they alone – not the CIA, not Granger – would be the ones to bring her down.

But it wouldn't come to that. He would make certain of that.

Kensi hadn't killed these men. It was impossible. And he was going to prove it.


	65. S3E17 Blye, K Part 2

Season 3, Episode 17: Blye, K Part 2

* * *

Hetty was surprised to find Callen waiting in her office when she arrived in the morning, the water in her kettle already hot and the tea steeping. Given that he typically arrived two or even three hours later than she, it was quite the aberration from his pattern. After all, usually when he wanted a word with her in private, he invaded one of her houses.

Still, he didn't look troubled, and there was no tension rolling off him, so she decided not to assume the worst and set about her morning tea routine as usual, only adding a second cup to her tray.

"Good morning, Mister Callen."

"Morning, Hetty."

"May I ask what brings you here so early?"

He shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant and doing an excellent job of it. "Hadn't seen the sun rise without being on the wrong end of an all-night stakeout for a while. Figured it was worth it."

"Hmm." She brought the tray to her desk and poured the tea for them both. "Well, as excuses go, it isn't the worst I've ever heard."

He smiled. "What was the worst?"

"Oh, there was a very junior agent once who swore that they were unable to answer their phone one morning because it had 'fallen into the cat's litter box and was buried.'" She shook her head. "This agent was severely allergic to cats, which was not in his file, of course, but still."

Callen snorted. "I had better excuses when I was a kid than that."

"Indeed you did."

For a minute or two, they sat drinking their tea quietly. Hetty always appreciated when Callen drank tea with her – it wasn't something he enjoyed the way she did, and never had. But he drank it with her often, not because he was fond of the tea itself, but because it was a ritual between them. Tea was something that Hetty brought into his life, a constant of her own, and it was something he chose to share with her, despite his own neutral opinion of it.

Hetty made sure when she brewed tea for Callen that she chose the most generic and uncomplicated teas for him – anything more elaborate was wasted on him anyway.

Finally Callen set down his cup. "So...Granger's staying?"

"So it seems."

"Is there...something I should know about him?"

"Oh, many things, I should think." She gave him a small smile. "But the most important are the ones you already know."

"That he's a bureaucrat who plays politics, but he's capable of loyalty when it suits him?"

She nodded. "Owen is also decisive, thorough, and fearless. He plays the game the same way whether it's in the hot seat in Washington or a back alley in Moscow. He was an excellent agent in the field, and he has a single-mindedness which can be very valuable in the right circumstances."

"But?"

"But he is also less likely to allow himself to form personal loyalties or attachments." She peered at him over her glasses. "Owen serves this country without hesitation, but, as we learned during the events surrounding the death of Kensi's father, he will be equally quick to turn on someone – if they are guilty."

"He wouldn't fight for us if we were in trouble."

"He would," she said, "if he was really sure you were ultimately in the right. But he may also fight in his own way." Hetty looked into her teacup for a moment. "In many respects, Owen and I have much in common, and not just our history. But the difference, I believe, is that he is capable of being even more aggressively neutral than I."

"Whereas you would side with us to the end."

"Yes, I would."

Callen leaned forward. "Do you trust him, Hetty?"

"Trust is a complicated matter, Mister Callen. I believe Owen will do what he thinks is best, and I believe he will do so only after giving the situation a great deal of thought. But I also believe that he can be very short-sighted, especially when it comes to people."

She watched him digest that. He seemed to come to a conclusion, because he looked up and asked, "Is there...something that happened between you two that I need to know?"

Hetty shook her head. "There is too much between us for you to know it all right now. Owen and I have a history that stretches back decades, and not all of it can be easily split into good and bad. However…"

He peered at her closely.

"There was a time I regularly trusted him with my life." That admission surprised him; she could see it in his eyes. "And if it came to it, I would again."

"But you wouldn't trust him with this team?"

"Owen would shoot someone to save one of you. I have no doubts about that. But I don't know if he has the team's best interests at heart yet. He wouldn't put you in danger or intentionally cause one of you to come to harm. But I don't think he really understands the magnitude of what we do here, or of the decisions we make."

Callen let out a breath. "So...trust him, but watch my back in case he starts playing politics again?"

"Something like that."

"Okay." Callen drained the rest of his tea in one gulp. "Just...promise me that if he's actually a problem for you, that you'll let me know before I have to pull my gun on him again."

Hetty chuckled. "Mister Callen, if Owen becomes that sort of problem for me, he'll already be looking at my own."


	66. S3E18 The Dragon and the Fairy

Season 3, Episode 18: The Dragon and the Fairy

* * *

The lost family had hit rather close to home for Callen, so the basketball game at the conclusion of the case was a perfect distraction. Even better when Hetty arrived to ref the game.

Hetty with a whistle was a sight to behold, doubly so when she cracked down on every single possible foul with the same ferocity she brought to everything else. She did eventually bench Sam for two minutes, mainly because he couldn't stop second-guessing her calls.

It was uncharacteristic of him, which meant it was probably deliberate.

There had been a lot about families in their work lately – his own, Kensi's, now a family split by time and war in Vietnam. Once, so many reminders of that which he did not have would have dug into his mind like an ice pick, wedging pain and cold deep inside.

Today, G Callen found he could be honestly happy for a man who had found his daughter and grandson at last.

After all, though he had not found all of his family, he had found some of it. And, more importantly, he had built a family of his own along the way.

"Mister Callen!"

Hetty's voice rang in the gym.

"If you continue to delay before taking your free throw for another twenty seconds, I will turn the ball over to the other team."

"That's not a rule," Sam objected at once.

"On my court? It is now." She gave G a pointed look.

Ah. He knew that look. She thought he was thinking too much again. And she wanted him not to dwell on the past, but to live in the present.

And, as usual, she was right.

G dribbled the ball again, closing his eyes for just an instant.

"Come on, partner!" Sam was cheering from one side. "We got more humiliating to do here!"

"We'll see who gets humiliated!" Deeks yelled back.

"Mister Callen? Five...four...three…"

Callen opened his eyes and took his shot all in one motion. And grinned at Hetty when it went in.

"Excellent. Now, let's resume normal play."

Kensi retrieved the ball and Sam and Deeks fell into position.

G glanced back at Hetty and winked.

She shook her head at him. "Not this time, Mister Callen."

"What?" he asked, jogging backwards. "I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to."

With a light heart, he threw himself back into the game.

No, he hadn't had to say a word for Hetty to know that he understood her message, agreed, and was grateful for the reminder. Just as she hadn't said a word to remind him to be here with his team, with this family, and not lost in the shadows of what might have been.

But now he needed to focus on his wordless communication with Sam, before Kensi and Deeks beat them both.

Family or not, basketball bragging rights were something else entirely.


	67. S3E19 Vengeance

Well, these 4 are pretty chill, which works out because next up is the literally explosive end to season 3!

Since next Monday is Memorial Day, if I am late, I promise to get these up on Tuesday.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 3, Episode 19: Vengeance

* * *

"Sam would die for what's right."

"He may have just done that, Mister Callen."

G read the look in her eyes, and breathed a sigh of relief even as he understood her warning.

If this had been a case Owen Granger was running, Sam's actions might have destroyed his career. Sam would have been in the right, would have done the noble thing, but his place with NCIS would be over. And without any interference from anywhere else, he might be brought up on charges as well.

Sam would have given up his career to protect those SEALs. He wouldn't have regretted it, but being right wouldn't have saved him.

And G would be out a partner.

But even before they went upstairs, Callen knew Hetty was not going to take Sam away, or end his career. Not over this. Not when Sam's decision meant that SEAL team made it into the field to rescue their targets.

Callen realized as he walked into Ops that he had absorbed some of that extreme faith in SEALs from Sam, because it literally never crossed his mind that they wouldn't be successful. He watched their battle, Taliban raining fire down on them, injuries and wounds to the members of the team – and never questioned whether or not they would get out the hostages. They were SEALs. Sam even said it a minute or two later.

"That's what we do."

G knew that. He'd had five years with Sam to learn it.

He also knew that Hetty would close the investigation. She told him as much without saying a word. Because that was the game Hetty played. There was a difference, always, between what was legal, what was right, and what was just. And whenever possible, Hetty went for right and just and let the legal side slide.

But there had been a warning in there, too. Things might change with Granger around now. And Sam would always be Sam. Sam would still die for the right thing.

Hetty was telling G that he needed to cover the grey area in the middle. If Sam was going to take the high road, then his partner would have to go low, as low as necessary, to get them both out of a situation intact. If Sam was going to destroy evidence, then G would have to produce some, or find different evidence, or negate the need for it.

Or he might lose his partner to Granger's interpretation of right, just, and law.

And since that was _never_ going to happen, Callen made a note to watch his partner's back in a new way. Just in case.

As Sam would always, always do for him.


	68. S3E20 Patriot Acts

Season 3, Episode 20: Patriot Acts

* * *

Callen found Hetty leaning on the railing looking down at the bullpen. Nate was surrounded by the rest of the team, swapping stories and jokes as if he had never left.

"How's he doing?" he asked her.

"He is making a difference," she said. "His expertise has led to multiple successful missions, evaluations, and interrogations."

G gave her a look. "How is he _doing_?"

"I believe...he is coping better than he expected."

"What about what _you_ expected?"

She gave him a small smile. "Nate hasn't disappointed me in any way."

Callen nodded, letting out a breath. "Good to hear."

"Don't worry, Mister Callen. I recall our original deal. If Nate is ever in need of our help, we will be there for him." Then she made a sly look. "As he would be there if we needed him."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you implying we need a visit from Nate?"

"It _has_ been a while since you had someone with whom to sit down to discuss the complicated matters which are not a part of normal mission debrief."

Callen intently ignored the increasingly smug look on her face. "I'm fine, Hetty."

"Of course."

"I'm _fine_."

She nodded and stepped back. "You should go spend time with your team, Mister Callen. We won't have Nate around for much longer."

He could feel she had something else to say, so he just waited for it.

Hetty started to leave, paused, and turned back. "Oh, and don't be surprised if Nate asks you about your cat."

"You told him about the cat?" He paused. "Wait. It's not _my_ cat."

"It eats in your backyard, you bought it a small home, and you have pictures of it catching birds on your phone."

Callen was affronted. "Gouda is murder on birds. It's actually impressive."

"It's a good thing, Mister Callen. And Nate will agree."

He glared. "You didn't need to tell Nate about the cat, Hetty."

She smiled. "I wouldn't have, if you had done so yourself. Now, go enjoy your team." She turned away. "Good night, Mister Callen. My regards to your cat."

Callen sighed, braced himself for inevitable teasing, and followed orders.


	69. S3E21 Touch of Death

Season 3, Episode 21: Touch of Death

* * *

Two weeks after the smallpox case, Hetty found an unmarked brown bag on her desk. She knew by the scent before opening it that it was green tea.

"Sorry it's late."

She looked up to see Callen leaning on the pillar as usual.

"I'm not sure it can be late, given that it was rather unexpected."

He smiled. "We were too busy while we were in Hawaii for me to find some, but after our friends went home, I sent them an email. Apparently this is the finest green tea grown in Hawaii. Detective Kelly was very specific about that."

"I can imagine. But you certainly didn't need to go to all this trouble."

"Well." He shrugged. "You did send us out there."

And she understood.

Dracul Comescu had been in Hawaii. For the first time, Callen had been faced with his past, his history, with the blood feud that had taken his mother. Hetty would have been well within her rights to refuse to send him and Sam because of that history. But she had sent him, and he had needed to go.

And he had killed Comescu, finishing what had begun in a beach house on the other side of the world.

But he had come back, and not only because of the smallpox. He had come back because here was where he belonged, here was his own family he would defend.

He had faced his past, and he had accepted his present.

And Hetty was still a part of his future.

It was something he didn't know how to tell her, exactly. He had been so angry, so hurt, so betrayed for so long when he found out all she had known about him without ever telling him. In the end, he had understood her decision, had forgiven her, had decided to hold onto the family he had rather than shatter it for the family that was already gone.

But there were tender spots in those old wounds – for both of them.

G Callen wanted and needed Hetty to know that he did not hold them against her.

So he did it the best way he knew.

He brought her tea.

Hetty smiled at him. "Thank you, Mister Callen. It is a wonderful gift, and I expect I shall enjoy it very much."

He smiled back, and she could see that he knew she understood his true message. "At the rate we're going, at some point you're going to have an international network of people who can acquire you any kind of tea you want. There are some cartels who don't have as many ways to get their stuff as you do."

She chuckled. "And it should stay that way. Proper tea deserves the effort to acquire it and the time to savor it."

"Well, I'll leave you to savor this, then." He held up a hand at her question hanging in the air. "No, if regular tea is only barely my thing, green tea is definitely not my thing. It's all for you."

And she understood that, too.

"Thank you," she said again.

And she hoped he knew that 'it,' whatever 'it' was, was all for him as well.


	70. S3E22 Neighborhood Watch

Season 3, Episode 22: Neighborhood Watch

* * *

Callen was lying on his floor again, thinking about whether or not to turn on a light, when he remembered something Sam had said during the assignment about a speech Hetty gave agents.

He pulled out his phone and texted her. "How come you never gave me the intimate undercover assignment speech?"

She sent back, "I wasn't under the impression you needed it."

Which was what he'd told Sam, of course. He preened a little. Then decided to be sure. "Why?"

"Because you are always a consummate professional."

Callen grinned. He was going to rub that one in Sam's face for sure.

Another text arrived.

"Also, your undercover partners were mostly faithfully married or uninterested in men."

"Except Tracy," he replied.

"Tracy was not up to me."

Even from halfway across the city, he could _feel_ Hetty's disapproval. He wondered what poor handler had gotten an assignment in Antarctica without ever knowing what they had done to deserve it. Then he decided he just didn't want to know. If Hetty took punitive action against somebody on his behalf, plausible deniability was essential.

He sent, "Was there a reason you thought I couldn't handle being partnered with someone that way?"

To his surprise, his phone rang. "Hetty?"

"It was never that I thought you could not handle it, Mister Callen. It was that I didn't want to put you in the position of growing close to someone under false pretenses. There had been enough of that already." He could hear the sigh in her voice. "I thought that you would be better off when you could make friends and allies in truth, not undercover."

"Oh." He wanted to say that he could have handled it, that such a level of protectiveness wasn't necessary. But, on the other hand, he knew himself. And, especially early in his career, he might well have made a mistake and attached himself to someone more than was wise. Again, Tracy was proof of that.

"I can give you the speech now if you'd like," Hetty said.

He laughed. "No, thanks. I'm good." Then he paused. "But you did give it to Kensi and Deeks, right?"

"Of course. In _great_ detail."

"Good. If anybody needed to be reminded about feelings and the job while doing that, it's the two of them."

"But you don't think I made a mistake sending the two of them together rather than sending Kensi with you?" she asked.

"No. Because, first of all, Deeks is Kensi's partner and deserved to be there. And, second, Kensi and I would probably have killed each other in the first day."

"You and Miss Blye get along perfectly well."

"Hetty." He shook his head even though she couldn't see it. "Kensi has _stuff_. A _lot_ of stuff."

"Oh, of course." He could tell she was smiling. "Well, then I am glad you agree that their partnership could withstand the assignment."

"I'm more worried about whether their partnership can withstand the two of them," he said. "But, however it comes out, I think they're going to be fine."

"As do I, Mister Callen. Now, unless you really want the speech about your emotions and hormones…"

"Good night, Hetty." And he hung up listening to her start to laugh.


	71. S3E23 Sans Voir Part 1

Sorry for missing yesterday. And with these three as well! This sequence with the return of Janvier and everything is one of my favorite arcs in the series. So much happens.

Here we go! Enjoy!

* * *

Season 3: Episode 23: Sans Voir, Part 1

* * *

She hung up the phone, and before she turned around, Callen knew.

"Hetty?"

He heard the words, but the meaning was the only thing that mattered.

Renko was dead.

Hetty's face was masterfully composed, and her voice was even. But Callen had seen the crack. The tiny break in her spirit, the soul sliding out of her eyes.

It was exactly what he had seen with Dom.

Hetty turned and left Ops before anyone could speak, before they could even react. And it was one of the most difficult things he could do right then not to follow her. His heart was pounding, and his throat ached from all the words he wasn't saying or yelling or swearing.

Hetty must have been feeling a thousand times worse. She wasn't Renko's handler, but she had been once. She considered Renko hers.

Callen heaved in a breath. "Come on, Sam. Let's go talk to Mara White."

Deeks's eyes were wide and concerned. "What about Kensi?"

"Go meet her at the hospital," Callen said, fighting his voice the whole way. "Bring her with you to the boatshed if she's ready."

"Deeks." Sam's tone was low, and he actually clapped Deeks on the shoulder. "Take care of her."

"I will."

Callen exchanged a nod with him, too, as he and Sam headed out of Ops. He paused to look back at Eric and Nell. Nell looked composed, but Eric was stricken.

"You okay?" he asked him.

Eric swallowed. "I didn't…"

"It's okay," Nell said. "I'll handle things."

Callen was flushed with gratitude. He didn't have time to hold everybody together, not now, but Nell was stepping up the way Deeks was, being strong when the team was in need. He looked at Eric to be sure, but Eric was staring at Nell and looked about two seconds away from asking her for a hug.

"Nell." Callen met her eyes. "Thank you."

"Any time." And she couldn't smile, but she tried.

Callen left Ops feeling like he had abandoned one storm, only to skirt the edge of another.

Hetty was in her office. Deeks was already out of sight, and Sam was waiting by the door. Hetty was not sitting at her desk, but was instead perched in the back corner at the secure computer inside the hutch. It sheltered her from the furtive glances of the others in the office.

He moved towards her almost on instinct. But he paused just before taking the first stair into her space.

"Hetty?"

"You have a job to do, Mister Callen." Her voice was cold and still. "Focus on that. There will be time for everything else later."

He couldn't tell her that things would be all right. He couldn't tell her that he would find out who killed Renko and either bring them to justice or take revenge. He couldn't tell her that he was sorry, that he would be there for her when her heart broke, that he was in this with her.

He hoped she could hear it when he said, "Yeah, there will."

He hoped she would be all right.

He headed to the boatshed with his heart warring between rage and grief. And both fueled his determination.

Renko was dead and his team was heartbroken again.

G Callen could never make this right, but he would go down himself before he failed them again.


	72. S3E24 Sans Voir Part 2

Season 3, Episode 24: Sans Voir, Part 2

* * *

Hetty owed Owen a debt for handling the situation after her team took the Chameleon into custody. He spared her having to arrange for retrieving Lauren Hunter's body, having to call all the people who needed to be called, the papers that needed to be filed. He even offered to debrief the team.

Because Owen, though he might not have known for sure, probably suspected that Lauren Hunter was one of Hetty's.

(In a fleeting moment between waves of grief, she hoped he still did not suspect the full truth about Callen.)

She wasn't quite sure how she got home. She made tea and sat in her chair, and the sorrow and guilt raged inside like a hurricane.

The sun had only barely set when Callen came in.

This time, he didn't speak. She looked into his eyes and saw anger and confusion, but his feelings were more removed. He had only known Lauren Hunter for a short time, and never as anything but an antagonist in one way or another. He had never seen her as a friend, a teammate, or a part of his heart.

Something in his distance made her feel cold.

They were almost siblings, and he had never known it.

But Lauren had. Lauren had known it all.

That was why Hetty had trusted Lauren with her team when she left for Prague. That was why she trusted Lauren with the Comescus. That was why she had trusted Lauren to protect Callen in her absence. Even though Lauren had always resented him a little bit.

She had once accused Hetty of having favorites, and of Callen being chief amongst those because of his mother.

Hetty had called her a brat and told her to grow up.

She hadn't ever allowed herself to examine those feelings, because she was afraid that Lauren might be right.

And now Callen stood before her, unsure how to help her.

Hetty shook her head. He would have let her cry, if she had been willing. But she wasn't. Not right now.

Callen made another step towards her.

"Please." She knew her voice was harsh and she could not soften it for him. "Don't."

She watched him snap, like a string that had been cut. Where he had been concerned, sorrowful, now he was enraged.

That protective boy was _burning_ because she had been hurt.

"Hetty…" His eyes were hard. "I…"

"I'm going to tell Owen not to let you near the Chameleon," she said.

If anything, that made him even more enraged, though he kept it all inside.

"Go home, Mister Callen. I will see you in the morning."

He rocked on his feet like he was going to take another step towards her, but froze when she turned her eyes to him. She felt wild inside, and he saw it.

And he backed away.

"I'm here, Hetty. Whatever you need. I'm here."

"Good night, Mister Callen."

She watched him go, knowing he wouldn't go far. She didn't sleep, and she knew he didn't either, keeping watch from his car on the street. When she rose before the sun to go see Lauren in the morgue, he followed her, though he stayed outside.

She hoped that her grief wouldn't drive him to something he couldn't handle. She knew that he would set fire to the world for her, and sometimes she hated it. Rarely more than today, when he was going to be her burning sword of vengeance, when he was going to strike down anything that had broken her.

His pain wasn't his own – it was hers.

First Renko, now Lauren were gone. And Hetty felt like she was drowning.

She could only pray that she didn't drown him along with her.


	73. S4E1 Endgame

Season 4, Episode 1: Endgame

* * *

The operation had been one of the most daring Callen had undertaken in a long, long time. From the instant he left police custody and except when he was meeting with Hetty, he was operating almost entirely without overwatch. Even though Sam made some attempt to stay nearby – it wasn't in Sam's nature to just leave his partner hanging in the wind.

And Hetty was even more exposed on her yacht.

They had both known that this could only work if they were alone, totally cut off from the rest of the team, effectively working blind. They wouldn't know when moves were made, or where. They wouldn't know anything the team learned from Atley, or how the Iranians were reacting. And if they failed in any way, the CIA's spy in Tehran would be exposed, and Callen would be guilty of treason.

"It has to be us," Hetty had said as she carefully outlined her plan. "It has to be Mister Callen and myself. Not only because my resignation in protest would be entirely believable to our enemies, but because this is an operation that requires Mister Callen's unique skills."

She'd met his eyes.

And he'd nodded. Yes, he understood.

"You're good at undercover," he said to the others. "All of you." And he even included Deeks. "But this isn't just our everyday undercover work. It's a whole other level."

"You're right," Sam had said – quietly, steady, already adding up the pieces in his mind. "If _anything_ goes wrong, it's career suicide, or worse."

"You'd be a traitor," Deeks had said. "For real."

"And somebody would probably execute you. Either the CIA or Iran," Kensi had added.

"Which is the _other_ reason it has to be Mister Callen and I," Hetty had said. "Outside of the people in this room, we have nothing else to lose."

After that, any argument died quickly and the plan was cobbled together with a few swift details. And with every word they spoke, Callen and Hetty both followed one another into the shadows.

Sam Hanna had done dangerous, intense undercover work, just like Kensi, just like Deeks. They had all walked on every side of the law, had pretended to be everything but themselves, had lied and killed in the name of duty. But they weren't truly spies. None of them had lived the shadow life of the Company, the life of an agent working completely alone with no backup, no extraction, and no room for error. They had never been thrown into a lake of sharks and had to swim or risk taking down their entire country with their deaths. Those shadows, though, were old friends for Hetty and Callen. That house of mirrors had been their proving grounds.

They could do this – and as the team watched them prepare, sharing cryptic lines and invisible looks, they began to understand why.

The operation was a success in the end, and had played out almost exactly how they had expected. The Iranians had the information which was helpful to the CIA, the CIA was reminding themselves why Callen and Hetty had once been part of the Company, and the only lasting damage was to Callen's body from his beating.

But when the debrief was over, Hetty sent Callen a look which he understood.

And so, long after sunset, he again crept into one of her houses.

Hetty was waiting in her study, a small interior room which was warm and cozy and also utterly impenetrable.

"Are you all right, Mister Callen?" she asked him. Not the same way she had asked it in the bullpen, looking at the swelling from his bruises and the cuts that littered his face. Then, she had expected the flippant answer. Now she wanted the true one.

"It wasn't too bad," he said, taking a seat in the chair across from her. "The worst part was the bag they put over my head smelled like it had some kind of dead raccoon in it. And maybe a foot." At her expression, he ducked his head. "Really. I've gotten worse from Sam putting on a show."

She nodded.

"And you? Are you okay?"

"Hosein Khadem didn't obey Vaziri's orders," she said. "He came for me anyway."

"You knew he would," Callen said. "As soon as we knew he was in the game. You were already the bait. You knew he would come." He leaned forward. "He didn't...?"

"He never even made it onto the yacht," she was quick to assure him. "Owen knows it was me, of course, but he'll never prove it. And I will sleep fine knowing he is, once again, dead."

Callen nodded. It was the one part of the operation he had hated. He didn't say a word about it, because the mission had to be the priority, and this mission outweighed any concerns about a specific person's safety. But still, to make it work, he had been forced to leave Hetty unprotected, vulnerable, and to set her up to be used against him. It had always been the plan to put him out there as an agent who could be turned, and to make Hetty the mechanism.

But to make it believable meant Hetty had been in constant danger, and that was before they knew Khadem was part of the equation. When Hetty told Callen who the man with Vaziri was, what their history had been, it had dumped ice into his very veins. This wasn't just a transaction anymore. This could have been revenge.

But they had persisted, because that was what they both were trained to do.

For himself, Callen would sleep far better knowing a man who had haunted Hetty was dead, too.

"Hetty," he said. "I'm sorry. About Hunter." He swallowed. "I wish I'd known."

"It was easier on you not to have to think of her as anything other than an agent and my replacement," Hetty said. "And easier on her not to reveal her connection to me and have you throw it at her. Because we both know you would have."

"When she was keeping me from following you to Prague and Romania? Yeah, I probably would have." But Callen had had a few days to think, and now he felt even worse for the woman who had been forced to let Hetty go to her death, knowing exactly what was waiting and why, and had stayed behind to keep him safe in Hetty's stead. Those days with Hunter in Hetty's chair felt very differently to him knowing now that she had been doing something he hadn't been capable of – letting Hetty go.

Hetty let out a breath.

"I didn't call you here to talk about Lauren, however."

"But you can. If you need to."

She smiled. "Thank you. It is a gracious offer, Mister Callen. And I appreciate it. But first, there is something I need to say to you."

He nodded.

"We always knew Tehran would come to you, would try to turn you to confirm the identity of Cherokee. We knew they would probably use me to do it."

"Sure."

"But I want your word, Mister Callen, that you will never do so again." She pinned him with her gaze. "You cannot trade my life for the security of this country. It is not a price I can ever allow you to pay."

He had known it was coming. He knew it from the instant he told Vaziri that Hetty's life was his price. He knew it from her expression, from the kind of cold silence that filled the space between them as he approached Vaziri at the bar.

He'd had time to think about this answer, too.

"I can't."

Her eyebrows rose.

"Hetty, you're asking me to be willing to let you die, and I can't promise you I can ever do that. I _can't_ promise that." He looked at his hands. "I can promise I would do everything in my power to make it right. I can promise that I would die to protect agents in the field, to keep them from being compromised, to safeguard this nation. I can promise I would fight to my last breath."

When he looked up, he couldn't stop what was in his eyes.

"But I can't promise you that I would let them kill you. I can't and I won't."

She was clearly taken aback, but she recovered quickly. "That was not our deal, Mister Callen."

"No. Our deal was that we could work together as long as we could still do our jobs." He shook his head. "I'm sorry if this means I can't live up to it anymore."

"Romania changed more than I thought, didn't it?" she asked softly.

"Yeah. It did."

"Director Vance told me you'd resigned, and Mister Hanna and Miss Blye with you. I suppose I ought to have realized." She sighed. "Some roads should never have been taken, Mister Callen. Some bridges never burned."

"Well," and he couldn't tell if he was angry or something else entirely, "they're burned now. There's no going back. And if it happened, I would...I would do _anything_ to make it right. But I _cannot_ let you trade your life. For anything. Not while I'm alive."

He looked up at her and it was a small, lonely boy in his eyes.

"Please don't ask me to."

Hetty shook her head. "You are being foolish, sentimental, and bordering on insubordinate, Mister Callen. And if you proceed with this plan, you may find yourself labeled a traitor once again, but in truth."

"I know." And he wanted to look away, but didn't.

"As your Operations Manager, I cannot accept this. I must object most strongly, and I warn you that I will take steps as I see fit to prevent you ever from making such an egregious mistake as to put the safety of any one person over the security of this nation."

But before he could even react, she reached across the space between them and caught his hands in her own.

"But given that you are a person who has my complete and unquestioning trust, as a person who I...have known for so very long...as a person who is my own family...I understand."

He squeezed her hands. "Hetty…"

"I did, after all, deliver myself into the hands of the Comescus. And if they hadn't been so blinded by their vendetta against you, they could have made other use of me." She made a wan smile. "I can hardly blame you for something which I have already been willing to do."

She rose from her chair without releasing his hands and closed the distance between them. She only let go when she could instead put her arms around her ridiculous, loyal, oddly gentle boy. He leaned his forehead into her shoulder.

"We're all right, Mister Callen. And, for what it's worth, I am...I am very grateful we could make something positive from losing Mike and Lauren. You were willing to shoulder my burden for me, and that is a truly princely gift."

"I wish I could have saved them."

She could only nod.

"Hetty?"

She eased back, leaving her hands on his broad shoulders.

"Yes, Mister Callen?"

"Thank you."

"What for?"

He closed his eyes. She watched as the last walls erected around his heart crumbled down for that moment. All agents broke down after intense assignments – and finally his turn had come.

"For everything."

She smiled at him and felt her own walls falling away. "Thank _you_ , Mister Callen."

"What for?"

"Everything else."


	74. S4E2 Recruit

Hi all!

Four chapters this week means we'll end in the middle of a two-parter, but that's just how the timing works, I guess.

That said, I'm thinking about decreasing the frequency of chapters and instead going into next year. For 8 years I've tried to have a weekly update, which means writing enough stuff in the year before to post it. This year has been very rough, with illness, moving, and mental health issues making my production almost nil. So, after season 4, it's possible I'll slow down. Sorry if that comes as a disappointment. In the meantime, though, the tags continue!

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 4, Episode 2: Recruit

* * *

Callen was already sleeping very lightly, so it took nothing more than someone in the seat in front of him shifting to wake him; once up, he immediately spotted the activated camera on his tablet. Just as quickly, he figured out who would have turned it on in the middle of the flight. The cameras on the Ops side weren't on, so he couldn't see her in return, but he gave a little wave anyway.

It hadn't been so long ago that Hetty had been worried about him and Sam in Sudan, and now they were heading back from Dubai after a mission that could have gone disastrously wrong. Even if nobody got hurt, there was no guarantee they wouldn't end up in trouble with the local authorities, and causing international incidents was a quick way to lose one's career, or at least one's pay.

G knew she hadn't really wanted them to go, but there was no choice if they wanted to save the life of at least one American and shut down the terrorist cell behind recruiting the rest. And given that they had actually saved more than one, he felt it had been well worth the risk.

But Hetty worried, because that's what she did when her team was somewhere she couldn't easily reach them.

Beside him, Kensi moved in her sleep, leaning on his shoulder a bit. Callen took the chance to glance over to where Deeks and Sam were completely out – Deeks actually curled up on Sam's shoulder, practically in his lap.

Callen grinned and turned his attention back to the camera.

It was awkward to sign with his left hand, but he'd practiced it enough times that he could do it without too much difficulty. ASL was much harder to do one-handed than the little hand-signals he and his team had built together – most of which had come out of a language of signs Hetty had taught him herself.

He signed, "Camera. Picture." Then he spelled out Sam's name. As in: Please take a picture of Sam sleeping for me.

Then he signed, "Situation normal. Status green."

Then, with a grin, he finger-spelled the words "Tea gift."

The tablet lit up as the camera in Ops connected. Hetty was sitting to one side, sipping some tea of her own and smiling. Otherwise, the room was deserted. Given the hour, though, G wouldn't have expected anyone to still be there.

Anyone but Hetty, watching her agents come home.

Without so much as sloshing her tea, she signed "Thank you" to him. Then she looked at Kensi, back at Callen, and signed "Sleep." A raised eyebrow made it a question.

As in: Shouldn't you be sleeping as well?

He couldn't shrug without dislodging Kensi, so he waved his hand in a "Maybe" gesture.

She gave him a look that needed no sign language at all for translation.

Hetty always knew when he was pushing himself. A good soldier sleeps whenever they can, but a team leader never sleeps when the team is resting so there's always someone on watch. His team was asleep, so now that Callen was awake, he would stay awake. Even if there was virtually no chance of a threat on the plane, it was still his responsibility.

Hetty set down her teacup and regarded him. Then she moved her hands in a gesture which had been amongst the earliest she had ever shown him.

"I will guard you. You are safe."

He was a grown man, but those words had the same impact on him now that they always had.

He nodded and signed, "Thank you."

This time when he closed his eyes, he let himself fall completely asleep, secure in the knowledge that his own team leader was watching out for them now.


	75. S4E3 The Fifth Man

Note that I make reference here to some information that comes out towards the end of this season – episode 22. Because of course Hetty knows more than she's saying, and thus far, she's kept Callen in the dark. But not for long…

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 4, Episode 3: The Fifth Man

* * *

"What's going to happen to Astrid?"

Hetty wasn't surprised when Callen melted out of the shadows outside the boathouse. She would have invited him in to join the card game except that Astrid seemed to be comfortable with just the three of them and the girl had been through enough without needing a stressful social interaction at the end of the day.

"Tonight, she'll stay here with Miss Blye," Hetty said, setting off down the pier. "In the morning, I will arrange for her to meet some prospective foster parents to take care of her while her father is in custody."

He fell into step beside her. "So you're not going to…?"

"No." Hetty shook her head. "Astrid needs a little more specialized attention than I can spare at this moment. Though I will be keeping an eye on her."

"Another Hetty Lange kid, then?"

Hetty looked up at him, carefully controlling her expression. "Only if that's how she chooses it to be. She's exceptionally bright, and very direct in conversation, which is a nice change of pace from the shadow games we all play. As a technical analyst or an intelligence analyst, she would be superb. But that is a decision for later, when she's ready."

"You like her."

Hetty did not permit the slight relief she felt show on her face. Callen was moving away from the more dangerous line of conversation, and she must not give him reason to return to it.

"Of course I do. So does Kensi."

"How is it that you can just...make space for us all? You give us something to hold onto, and you find a way to keep us from getting lost so we can have a future. Me, Lauren Hunter, now Astrid..." He shook his head. "I can barely manage a cat who doesn't even live in my house."

"The secret," she said, "isn't in making space, as you say. It's in recognizing the potential in everyone, and in providing that potential a place to grow. Like the roses in my garden. They choose their shape and color, Mister Callen. I just ensure they have water and sunlight and protect them from weeds and rabbits."

He smiled. "I think that's the first time anybody's ever compared me to a rose."

"By any other name," she said, "you would still be G Callen."

"Do you think we'll ever find the rest of it?" he asked. It was a doubt he rarely voiced, and only times like now when it was dark and he could hide his uncertainty from her.

Or he could try. It wasn't as if he succeeded, after all.

"In my experience, the truth can be very elusive. However, the diligent will always find their way back to it in the end." She looked up at him and gave him a smile. "You are one of the most stubborn and dogged agents I've ever known, Mister Callen. If there's anyone with the patience, focus, and conviction to ferret out this truth, it will be you."

He let out a breath that sighed across the water. "Thanks, Hetty."

"Now." They had reached the parking lot where they were putting some of the cars this week – they had to rotate to keep the boathouse from being made obvious to anyone watching their movements. "Cards with Astrid and Miss Blye is entertaining, but it lacks something in the cutthroat nature of how such games should truly be played. Would you like to try your hand against me for a few rounds of blackjack?"

Callen laughed. "Sure I'll play, but I'm not betting against you, Hetty. That never ends well."

"Pity."


	76. S4E4 Dead Body Politic

This one was inspired by a throw-away line about Hetty in Nicaragua. "Well, I ruled Nicaragua once for 72 hours. Don't ask."

But he's Callen. So…

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 4, Episode 4: Dead Body Politic

* * *

The debate had just ended, and Hetty was sitting back with her scotch, considering. The president had answered well, as had his opponent, but she wasn't overly pleased with the format or the moderation. If she was supposed to be helping the moderator, he needed to damn well listen to her!

Suddenly her laptop pinged.

Raising an eyebrow, Hetty opened it. The laptop shouldn't come out of sleep mode for something as simple as an email or a standard alert. Only a more serious change in status should wake it while shut.

A warning had popped up.

"Secure File Access Attempt."

Hetty opened the alert to check the details. If it was serious, she could always recall Eric; however, she was hoping she could let the young man have an evening for once. Of the entire team, Mister Beale worked almost as many hours as Hetty, simply due to the nature of his job. Even her agents got more downtime between cases – it was Eric Beale and sometimes Nell who had to be on duty at all times to watch for developing situations.

She recognized the file extension at once and sighed.

It was a good attempt – she would give him that. Though how Mister Callen had gotten hold of Owen's credentials, she decided she didn't want to know.

Hetty opened the system and added a new password to the file, one that was not included in Owen's access levels.

Then she waited.

"Secure File Access Attempt."

Well, he was nothing if not persistent. With the NCIS version of the file under lockdown, he had gone to the CIA side. Clever, but insufficient. Hetty didn't need to make any adjustments this time – the CIA files were protected to the point of impenetrability to anyone other than Eric Beale.

However…

Feeling a touch of impishness, Hetty rapidly created a new file on an NSA server and gave it a similar enough name and profile to appear in a search. The cross-reference of her name and "Nicaragua" had brought Callen as far as the NCIS and CIA versions – she knew him well enough to know that he would begin trying her aliases next.

"Sylvia Martin" would bring him here in moments.

As much as Hetty was teased about computers making her nervous, she was certainly more than capable with them or she would have been out of the game a decade before. She had hidden her own files hundreds of times, and had watched Eric Beale more closely than he ever realized. After all that, creating a false file and erecting some sizeable but relatively rudimentary protections was no more difficult than requisitioning office equipment.

Actually, the requisitions were more complicated – they required budgeting.

She finished the file and backdated it just a few moments before the alert popped up.

"Secure File Accessed."

Hetty smirked.

A text chimed on her phone. "Well played. I concede – for now."

Hetty shut her laptop and sat back with her scotch, mentally estimating how long "for now" meant to Callen this time.

It would be a month later that she would receive an email from a tech over at the NSA, inquiring into the file and wondering what value there was to a blank report regarding an incident in Nicaragua containing only one line: "I thought I told you not to ask." Especially since attempts to get at similar information had been regularly flagged and thwarted throughout the system for the past month.

Hetty responded that she had arranged a training exercise with a few of her own people to assist the NSA in catching internal insecurities. And after one call to a contact, no one questioned when such an initiative had been assigned or approved.

Though she did order Callen to stop trying to hack the NSA. As useful as it was to keep them from being vulnerable to outside threats, she certainly didn't want them closing the loopholes she and Mister Beale regularly exploited, after all.


	77. S4E5 Out of the Past Part 1

Season 4, Episode 5: Out of the Past, Part 1

* * *

Nell ran for the directory to start pulling phone numbers. Everyone else in Ops stood staring at the map, the circles.

The bombs.

The fear in Callen was unfamiliar. This wasn't the coiling anxiety that happened when one of his team went undercover and was in trouble. It wasn't the burning dread that he might be too late to save an innocent life. It wasn't the sad, deep suspicion that he might never find out the rest of his own history. It wasn't the pervasive worry that someday he would fail and let his country or his team that was his family down.

This fear was glacial, immense, suffocating. It was a frozen stillness, all breath and warmth stolen and turned to stone. He felt like the very air molecules in his lungs were motionless, that if he tried to move, even to twitch, that he would shatter where he stood.

Nuclear bombs in Russian hands in the United States. For _decades_.

There was a class everyone who worked for the CIA had to take at Langley. A class which was specifically designed to make agents and analysts understand the danger of failure. Every horrific picture, video, audio file – literally anything which could demonstrate the results of a biological or chemical attack was on the syllabus. For days, agents and analysts were subjected to every atrocity for which there was documentation, just to drive home the point.

 _This is what we give our lives to prevent._

In a basement only a handful of miles away was a bomb that could have obliterated Los Angeles in a second. Everything gone. Everyone.

The sheer weight of that threat seemed like it should _crush_ him.

G managed to catch Sam's eyes and saw in him the same terror. This wasn't jihadists with a rocket launcher. This wasn't a cartel with AKs. This was a level of destruction, the very edge of annihilation, which was orders of magnitude beyond anything they'd ever faced – except once. The Empty Quiver situation.

This was _so much worse_.

Callen was trapped, frozen, reeling. He could think only because he couldn't stop thinking. But his very body was locked up in a dread that went straight to the soul.

Somehow, he dragged his gaze to Hetty.

Hetty regarded him with a look that made his knees ache just seeing it. Because this wasn't a new weight for Hetty. It was an old one. This was the terror she had lived with for decades in the Cold War. This was what she had been willing to give her life to prevent a thousand times over for most of her career.

G suddenly understood how Pierce felt, that his wife had succumbed to Alzheimer's because of the madness of the weight of the secret they kept. He couldn't honestly say that his own mind wouldn't have crumbled under the weight of it just as easily.

But Hetty had lived with this threat, had been on missions which could have induced nuclear war – and she had stood firm.

As she was standing firm now.

The weight of all those millions of lives, of the very nation, landed on her shoulders. Literally countless innocent souls, eight cities of civilians, all braced across her narrow frame. And Hetty was still standing.

Callen heaved in a breath.

He could do this.

He _had_ to do this.

Because he couldn't, wouldn't, let Hetty carry this weight alone.

Callen squared his shoulders and locked his jaw. The country was in danger, a danger more acute than any he had ever personally witnessed. Those lives were hanging in the balance. And if he knew that bladed ferocity in Hetty, he knew she wouldn't rest until she saw that danger removed.

And he was going to stand with her to the end.

Hetty gave him a tiny nod, understanding every single thing that had overwhelmed his mind and the paralyzing fear that held him. The tiniest of expressions crossed her face, but he could read it all the same.

 _Be ready, Mister Callen. We are needed._


	78. S4E6 Rude Awakenings Part 2

Sorry about being a day late. Yesterday got weird and ended with a trip to the doctor and much giving of blood. No worries – I'm fine. It was just not the most fun experience.

Anyway, back to the oneshots!

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 4, Episode 6: Rude Awakenings, Part 2

* * *

G was badly unsettled.

The whole case hadn't gone the way it should have. There were three nuclear bombs within the borders of the US unaccounted for, and Sidorov had gotten away as well. Sam's wife was back in the line of fire, and it was tearing Sam apart. And he'd had to tell Sam's secret to Kensi and Deeks.

It wasn't that G thought they didn't deserve to know – but it was Sam's story to tell, not his. If Sam had wanted Kensi and Deeks to know about Michelle, he'd have said something when he came to an agreement with Granger. But he hadn't. And now Callen had done it for him, without his permission, and he didn't really know for sure if Sam would be okay with that.

The case was over without being closed. The danger remained, the threat to innocent people was as bad as ever, to say nothing of Michelle, and there were no more moves they could make.

It was worse than an itch under his skin. It was a gnawing uneasiness.

Callen knew better than most what toll their job took, what it might someday cost them. He'd lost his own family because his mother had been an agent. He knew that safety in their line of work was the most dangerous illusion of all. And now it was broken. None of them were safe. Those nuclear bombs could be anywhere, could be used for anything.

And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

Nor was there anything he could do about Sam.

If Callen was honest with himself, he didn't entirely understand Sam's relationship with his wife. But then, it was very, very hard for G to love people at all, let alone so intensely. He could count on less than two hands the number of people in the world he truly, truly loved. But even then he couldn't imagine loving them as much as Sam loved his wife. G loved the people who were his family, his team, his partners. He loved them so much he would die for any of them without hesitation.

He could not imagine loving someone else that much, and then loving them romantically too.

From the instant Quinn came into play with Sidorov, Callen would have done anything to protect Sam and Michelle. He didn't want Michelle hurt, didn't want Sam put through this, didn't want to see that precious love they shared endangered. He would have done anything to help them, to shield them, if there had been any way at all.

Maybe he wouldn't have tried drowning a CIA agent – that might just have been Sam – but he certainly understood the impulse.

But there was nothing he could do for them now. He would guard them if he could, and he would support them, and he would break any rule necessary to keep them safe. But he couldn't save them from their own uncertainty, from the threat that now would wind its way into dinnertime and family time. He couldn't take away the heavy reality that had landed in their lives.

Just as he couldn't take the threat of three nuclear bombs out of the country.

He drove for more than an hour, wandering LA in his car, looking for something to drain the prickly energy of a mission that was stalled. He didn't want a beer, he didn't want to train in the gym – he just wanted something to be right.

He was on a highway when he spotted an exit ramp which he followed before he could really come up with a good reason not to. A few twists and turns later and he was pulling up outside one of Hetty's houses. She wasn't in it – she'd been here the night before so it would be vacant now.

Suddenly he was seized with the need to make sure it was secure anyway. So he left his car a block away and checked the perimeter. Then he checked the alarm system. Then he walked the interior. It was quiet and still, nothing out of place and nothing amiss. But it helped.

Once that house was completely cleared, he drove to the next to do the same thing. And the next. He even made a stop at one of her storage units. Methodically, one at a time, he prowled the places Hetty lived. All but one – the one where she was staying tonight.

Instead of going there, he drove to Sam's house and walked their perimeter. Now it was well past midnight and he didn't want to disturb them, so he only checked the outside. Then he drove to Kensi's, to Deeks's, to Eric's, to Nell's, and checked them as well.

Finally his chest felt like some of the weight was off it and he could breathe again.

He was just getting back into his car after Nell's when his phone went off. It was Hetty, of course.

"If you are finished, I'm starting the tea."

He shook his head. He didn't need to ask how she had known what he was doing.

Another text arrived.

"Also, Mister Hanna says if you wanted to go there for the night, he would understand, though he doesn't require your presence. Miss Blye would rather you didn't wake her up again, however."

He replied, "What about the others?"

"Mister Deeks has not texted me yet. Eric says you missed one of his cameras."

He let out a breath. It was easier than the last one had been.

His phone went off again.

"Now, either come here and have some tea or go to sleep on Mister Hanna's couch, but stop lurking outside of Nell's. She has just texted to ask me about my feelings regarding your kneecaps."

"Would Nell really shoot me?" he typed back.

"Leave or you will find out."

Callen found he could almost laugh. He turned the car on and headed for Hetty's, waving at Nell's darkened windows as he went.

The world was not what it had been, but the most important things in it were safe.

That was all that mattered right now.


	79. S4E7 Skin Deep

Season 4, Episode 7: Skin Deep

Callen was glad to know Lance was going to be okay, that he had someone to be there for him. Hetty was giving him that knowing look, reading his feelings off his face, probably.

It wasn't as if he was trying to hide them this time.

But he cleared his throat and decided to change the subject.

"Do you think we'll all have those implants someday? Become human intelligence gathering equipment?"

"If we live long enough," she said, "there's no reason not to expect it. It's not dissimilar from wearing a wire, which has been standard since the early days of the game."

"Yeah, but...this is a little different."

"Certainly." She gave him a look. "An implant would mean I could track my agents at all times without having to resort to checking phones and traffic cameras."

He smiled. "Would you really chip me like a dog, Hetty?"

She folded her hands primly. "What _exactly_ makes you think I haven't already, Mister Callen?"

"Seriously?"

"No. If I had, we would have had a much easier time following your movements when your cover identity was exposed a few years ago." But there was a gleam in her eye. "Incidents like that make such technology a very attractive possibility in some ways."

"Yeah, but…" He stopped. He _could_ point out all the myriad ways that could go badly, the ways the technology could be turned on innocent people, just like with the tracking spray they had used on Abdul Habaza which turned up on regular American citizens throughout LA. He _could_ point out that sometimes the whole point of being undercover was to not be found by anyone, even the good guys. He _could_ point out that, more than once, they had needed him to play the game against members of his own government.

He didn't. Instead, he said, "I'm sure Deeks would still get you a collar with a bell if you wanted us to be able to find you at all times."

She glared at him. "We are talking about an implant for _you_ , not _me_ , Mister Callen."

"Yeah, but _I'm_ not the one who went to Prague without telling anyone." And he said it with a grin, teasingly, and it caused him no pain.

"I'll make you a deal, then. Neither of us gets an implant." She raised a hand. "But I make no promises about your partner or Mister Deeks."

"Agreed. Just let me be the one to chip Deeks when it comes to it."

"If he irritates me any further with his appalling food choices, I'll hold him down myself."


	80. S4E8 Collateral

I'll be honest. This is one of my favorites. Everything that happens after Hetty disappears from the office is just gold. And if you watch that climactic fight scene carefully, well, the relationship between them is just RIGHT THERE. It's perfect.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 4, Episode 8: Collateral

* * *

On the drive back from the Nogales location, Owen leaned over to Hetty in the back of the car being driven by one of Farmer's agents.

"Agent Callen is a little zealous in his overprotectiveness, isn't he?" he asked.

Hetty gave him a sideways look. "All my agents are good at what they do. It's no surprise that they tracked us down when we disappeared."

"Not us, Henrietta. _You_."

She shrugged. "In the end, I trust Mister Callen's instincts. He believed there was more to this case than we were telling him, and he was correct. He was concerned that there was a personal connection to me, and there was. And, ultimately, if he hadn't brought his team here, there is no guarantee we could have fought them off on our own."

"That's a long way of not answering me," Granger said.

"After today, I'm not sure I owe you any more explanation than that."

And she turned away from him for the rest of the ride. She could feel his attention on her, was aware of his mixed feelings about the whole situation. She wasn't the only one who had seen a ghost in the woman who raised a gun to Callen after the SUV had crashed, after all. They were both reliving that particular mission, the bomb detonated, the innocent life taken alongside the guilty to spare the lives of hundreds of others.

Something Hetty knew well from her time working with Owen Granger was that sometimes he fixated on the personal aspects of cases to make sure his own head was clear.

But still, she made a mental note to ensure that Owen's security clearances as Assistant Director didn't include certain information about her own past or G Callen's. Though she could probably get Owen to overlook their history, she would have to burn some resources of her own to do it, and that was best saved for a last resort.

Owen was tricky. Some days he was a by-the-book bureaucrat who would take Agent Callen out from under from Hetty's supervision the instant he learned she had a personal connection to him beyond what he already suspected. Other days, he would burn the book in defense of the team remaining as it was. The trouble was there was no telling what sort of man he would choose to be, or when.

So it was easier for everyone if he simply didn't have the information to use at all.

But she would have to remind Callen to be more careful. That single-minded protectiveness was endearing, but it could give away the game to someone like Granger who knew enough about Hetty to make some too-smart guesses. It wouldn't have been so obvious if he hadn't come crashing into Nogales yelling for her, but he had.

On the other hand, he was a good agent whose boss had gone missing, so it was easy enough to explain it that way.

She wouldn't soon forget, however, that when the shooting began and everyone dove for cover, Callen dove to shield her instead. In the center of the floor, without even some dubious furniture to obscure his position, totally exposed to anyone with an angle through the window, he had covered her and never moved.

Of course, she could have gotten to cover of her own without him pinning her down, but that wasn't where his mind was at the time.

Hetty was starting to think that she would never again be able to approach even the scent of danger without G Callen placing himself in the way.

It was noble, and totally impractical.

They stopped at the hospital to check on Farmer before returning to the office, so they arrived after the others were already up in Ops receiving the briefing from what Granger and Hetty had sent back to Eric by way of explanation.

She waited until they were leaving and retrieved the walnut from her desk, carrying it to meet Callen on the stairs.

"Mister Callen." She tossed him the walnut. "I'm allergic to nuts."

It was a reminder that, yes, she had intended for him to follow this clue, but that he needed to do so carefully, paying particular attention to what knowledge of her he allowed others to see he possessed. It was thanks for coming after her, praise for following the trail she led, gratitude for his unyielding loyalty, and an admonition to be careful about it.

He grinned at her.

 _Message understood._

She nodded and turned back to her office. Owen would be by soon enough, thoughts filled with the old days and the horrors they held. And she would drink him senseless while so carefully obscuring any too-clever thoughts he might have about why Mister Callen was so very protective even to the point of insubordination.

And when Owen was distracted, mellowed, and vulnerable, she would very carefully lay the pieces to start bringing Owen into this team where he would be less of a threat. If she could bind him to these agents as they were bound to each other, he would be less likely to betray them or separate them.

Not completely unlikely – he would always be Owen.

But she would make it far more costly for him to move against her when she held his heart again.


	81. S4E9 The Gold Standard

A little late, but at least it's not Tuesday (at least where I am)!

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 4, Episode 9: The Gold Standard

* * *

Callen was sitting at his desk, not doing paperwork because, once again, he had managed to be about ten minutes too late to do it before Sam finished it all. Hetty walked up and cleared her throat.

"Need something?" he asked, leaving off his calculations for how much paperwork he could let build up before Sam would take it over once again – having a partner with such a keen sense of personal responsibility definitely had its benefits.

"I noticed that the amount of tungsten we turned over as evidence didn't quite match the amount we retrieved from the robbery," she said without preamble.

He shrugged. "We didn't actually count all the bars. We just eyeballed it. Could have been off by a few."

" _You_ didn't count them, no. But an evidence intake officer did," she said.

"Nell." Callen sighed. "Come on, Hetty. It was just one bar."

"And normally I would not bother with it in the slightest. However, all those bars were stamped with official US inscriptions to make them appear legitimate." She tipped her head at him. "What did you use it for?"

He held up his hands. "I promise you, nobody will ever recognize it. The US gold reserves are as safe as ever."

"Mister Callen, I'm waiting for an explanation." She didn't say it harshly, but there was a firmness in her voice which brokered no room for argument.

Callen glanced around to make sure no one was listening. The bullpen was clear, and no one was anywhere nearby – they were all in the gym watching the spectacle. Even so, he spoke without looking directly at Hetty, keeping an eye out for when Sam would get back from his weekly appointed duty of tutoring Deeks in hand-to-hand combat.

Deeks called it "tormenting, not tutoring" and he was probably not wrong.

"They don't make weighted bowls the right size."

"I beg your pardon."

"They don't make weighted bowls the right size," he repeated. "And the water dish kept tipping over every time it was windy. And there's a lot of wind in LA, if you hadn't noticed."

Hetty blinked. "Are you telling me you pilfered a piece of evidence for your _cat_?"

"It's not my cat," he said, and he knew he said it too fast, but he couldn't un-say it now. "It just eats at my house sometimes. And sleeps in my backyard. And it brings me what it kills a couple times a week. I found a half a seagull on the back steps last Tuesday."

Hetty was smiling that irritating smile she got when she was smug and pleased and somehow he had fallen into one of her traps and he still couldn't tell what it was or how he got there.

"A cat only brings such treats to a person it likes very much," she said. "Either that or Gouda thinks you are a terrible hunter yourself and he is trying to take care of you."

"Well, anyway." He shrugged. "The dishes weren't heavy enough. So I made him some better bowls. That's all."

" _You_ smelted tungsten?"

He leaned back and smiled. "I'm a man of many talents."

"I didn't realize that metallurgy was amongst them," she returned. Then she shook her head and sighed. "Very well. As long as the evidence is no longer evidence, and whatever means you employed in your crafting project cannot be traced back to this incident, I will let it slide."

He raised an eyebrow. _Of course_ he had been careful – more careful than probably was warranted even given the whole threat-to-the-economy thing from the case. But Callen would be a poor spy if he couldn't trick his way into a factory and make use of it under the eyes of a dozen people in head-to-toe safety gear. Hell, he could have bought the factory and turned it into a glass-blowing operation and nobody would have noticed, commented on it, or realized he had ever been there at all.

Hetty raised a hand at his expression. "I see. I shouldn't have doubted you." She turned to go. "My regards to Gouda, Mister Callen. Do thank him for me."

"For what?"

"Keeping an eye on you," she said over her shoulder. "It truly is a full-time job."


	82. S4E10 Free Ride

I really enjoy this episode. Partially because of Hetty's arrival at the last moment, and partially seeing the team embedded with the Navy – they don't get much exposure to the Naval part of NCIS!

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 4, Episode 10: Free Ride

* * *

"You were Sam's Christmas miracle," Callen said, sitting at the small table beside Hetty.

She smiled at him, already on her second glass of eggnog and looking as comfortable in the flight suit as she ever did in her usual attire.

"It was the least I could do. When Mister Beale informed me that you all would be here until after Christmas, and especially with everything we are asking of Mister Hanna's family, it was a simple choice."

"Yeah, but how many favors did it take to pull an F18 the day before Christmas?" he asked.

"Not enough to outweigh the good of a man at home with his wife and children on Christmas morning," she said. She glanced to where Deeks was trying to either make friends or pick a fight with some of the Marines, Kensi apparently making some attempt to keep the bloodshed to a minimum. "I am sorry that the rest of your holiday plans have been ruined, however."

"Don't sweat it," Callen said. "Kensi and Deeks – and Kensi's mom, that is still so weird – will have their ski trip when we get back. Sam's the one who really needed it to be _on_ Christmas."

"What about you, Mister Callen?" she asked.

G tipped his head. "I didn't really have any plans apart from crashing your place for dinner and then crashing Sam's for presents in the morning."

"It is becoming something of a tradition, isn't it?"

"Yeah." And it wasn't the eggnog that was warming his stomach at that thought. "But, anyway, I'll see them all when we get back. Knowing Sam and Michelle, they'll have us over for brunch anyway and it'll be just like Christmas but two days late and with a certain kid I could name actually having slept the night before."

Hetty chuckled. "I believe you may be right." She held out her glass. "Then here is to families, wherever we find them."

"To family," he said, touching his glass to hers, "and to the family that's right here with me."

The smile in Hetty's eyes went warmer.

"And that, Mister Callen, is why spending Christmas here and not in Macao is no great burden at all."

He smirked at her. "Getting sentimental, Hetty?"

"About you? Oftener than you realize, dear. Oftener than you realize."

And in the end, that Christmas afloat was no less as fulfilling than any Callen had ever spent – because he still spent it with some of the people who meant everything to him. And the rest of them did greet him with brunch and presents at the Hanna home when they returned to LA.

Either way, G felt he truly was 'home for Christmas.'


	83. S4E11 Drive

For context, in the middle of this episode with the car theft ring and Kensi going undercover with Esposito as a cousin, reference is made in a discussion between Hetty and Granger to a questionable undercover assignment Granger has given to Deeks against Hetty's will and unbeknownst to anyone else (which comes to a head in a later episode).

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 4, Episode 11: Drive

* * *

Since Kensi apparently really was going to dinner with someone other than Deeks, the rest of the group took Deeks to dinner for his birthday instead. Deeks pouted like a puppy until Hetty gave him carte blanche to order anything he wanted. It would be an expensive gift, given the way the guy could eat, but at least he was smiling again.

Then Callen ever-so-casually initiated a discussion about surfing between Deeks and Eric, poked Nell to provide them with some physics, and let them run. Those three could out-talk any politician ever born when on a favorite subject, and it left Callen, Sam, and Hetty to sit back and smile.

Callen's phone pinged at one point, and he discreetly shared the text from Kensi with Sam and Hetty.

"Okay, this was a bad call. Esposito's MOM is here. Asking about grandchildren. Somebody come shoot me."

Sam snorted into his wine and had to cover it before Deeks noticed. He shot his partner a look and excused himself from the table, saying he had to run out for a short while but he would be back and he would bring Deeks a gift.

Hetty and Callen waggled eyebrows at one another, and both privately hoped Sam wasn't going to set something up which could make Kensi any more uncomfortable than she already was. It was Sam, though, so chances were good he wouldn't do anything awful.

That was probably why he offered to go. He could rescue Kensi and pick up something nice for Deeks.

Callen hoped, anyway.

He leaned back in his seat, now watching Eric and Deeks apparently compete for most outlandish surfing story. Nell was obliged to duck more than once as their exuberant exchanges resulted in a lot of waving arms.

"Peking," Hetty said softly.

Callen looked at her in surprise.

She smiled.

And he remembered. He had asked her once, in a coded way, of course, why she chose Deeks for their team. And her answer had been that they needed him, and, he realized now, that Deeks needed them as well. That, together, they could accomplish more than they ever would have if he hadn't joined the team.

"Beijing," he answered, nodding. "You were right."

"Of course I was." She shot him a tiny smile. "You should know better than to doubt me by now, Mister Callen."

He huffed a laugh. "I do know better. But old habits die hard."

"The habit of doubting that you don't know everything?"

He made sure Deeks was talking and Nell and Eric were only listening to him. "Of trusting new people."

"Ah." She nodded. "Of course. But I'm glad you agree that he belongs here."

"He does." A prickle ran up his spine and G looked at her more closely. There was an angle to her shoulders that set off warning bells in his head. "Should I be worried?"

"Not yet."

Callen turned his eyes back to Deeks. There _was_ something, even if he couldn't quite put words to it. Something else. Something…

"Hetty, what – ?" he began.

She gestured and he fell silent. She let out a breath. "It's not my doing, Mister Callen. Nor my idea."

"Granger." Callen didn't growl, and he kept his body language neutral, just in case the other three decided to notice.

"Just keep an eye on Mister Deeks, please. He is one of ours – and he may need our help."

Callen nodded. "We'll be there." He fixed his eyes on Deeks and let the promise grow in his heart the way all his promises did. "No matter what."

For an instant, Callen thought Deeks maybe was aware of their exchange after all, because he gave a quirk of a smile entirely wrong for what Nell and Eric were saying. But it was gone as quickly as it had been, and Deeks was back into surfing stories as if nothing had happened.

G knew it had.

When Sam arrived twenty minutes later with Kensi in tow, a huge take-out order of baked ice cream (and how he got it into the restaurant, Callen had no idea, but it probably had to do with Kensi venting her feelings in one terrifying glare if the way the waiters avoided her was any indication), and a gift card to the detective's favorite fish taco place in the city, Deeks was all smiles and celebration.

But Callen's festive mood was gone.


	84. S4E12 Paper Soldiers

For context, this is the episode with the guy working in the ME's office who is stealing body parts by faking papers that state the soldiers want their remains donated – and they end up in a funeral home chasing down both ends of the operation. Most notably, Hetty and Nate go undercover as mother and son to distract the funeral home's director, and Callen and Sam come in later to cause trouble. And then Sam calls Hetty "Shorty." And her face is AMAZING.

But it's also the one where Nate has to interrogate the ME, who he is dating, and he really questions himself and the job. Hetty holds him together at a key point with a chess metaphor.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 4, Episode 12: Paper Soldiers

* * *

Nate was upstairs in one of the little corners where you could see most of the office without being readily visible in return. Callen, of course, found him within seconds.

"Hetty said you earned this," he said, holding out the chess set.

Nate gave a rueful laugh, taking the offering reluctantly. "I guess I played my role as a pawn okay."

"What's wrong with being a pawn?" Callen asked, leaning on the wall beside him.

"Nothing. I mean, not really. Except how you're basically cannon-fodder."

"Is that really what you think?" G shook his head. "It's true that pawns aren't the strongest pieces in the game, but they have a use which can be necessary for winning."

"Mowing down other pawns?"

"Have you even _played_ chess?"

Nate shrugged. "I know the basics, but that's about it."

Callen sighed. "Well, if a pawn gets all the way to the other end of the board, it becomes a different piece. So if you lose something you really need, your queen or a rook or something, you can get it back – _if_ you have a brave enough pawn."

Nate raised an eyebrow. "Chess metaphors, Callen?"

"Blame Hetty, not me." He shrugged. "But just because it's cliché doesn't mean it doesn't work."

"So, what?" Nate made a helpless gesture. "I'm a pawn, but I'm useful because I can be traded out for something better?"

"For a psychologist, you're not very bright," Callen accused, and Nate laughed. "You're useful because you can do something none of us can. If we're out of the game, you bring us back. You don't fight the same way we do, but pawns can back a king into a position from which the rest of the pawn's team can finish the job."

He paused and glanced down at the bullpen.

"And, I gotta tell you, the board looks pretty empty without that pawn fighting beside the others."

Nate rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

"So, Hetty's obviously the queen," he said, "and you and Sam are rooks – second-most powerful pieces on the board. Kensi and Deeks are probably the bishops, working like you two, but in a different direction. And Nell and Eric are the knights, erratic but devastating when used correctly." He shrugged. "And I'm the pawn."

"Exactly. Glad to see you catching on."

"So what's our king? It's not Granger."

Callen scowled. "No way." Then he considered. "I guess the king could be NCIS. Or maybe the US. Depends on how bad the day is. Because if we fail, that's what we lose." He met Nate's eyes and held them. "And, trust me. Our king would be a hell of a lot safer if you were on the front line with us in every fight."

Nate swallowed, then nodded. "If you really need me, I'll be there. Somebody's gotta bring you all back from the edge."

G smiled at him. "Feel better?"

"Actually, yeah." He shot Callen a measuring look. "You'd have been a pretty good psychologist yourself, you know."

"Yeah, no. That's not happening. You can't shoot your patients when you're a doctor. Right?"

Nate smirked. "I can't say I've tried that technique yet."

"Let me know if you do." Callen rolled back to his feet and turned to go. "And Nate?"

"Yeah?"

"Good work on this one."

"Thanks, Callen. Coming from you, that means a lot."

"Like Hetty said, you earned it." He threw him a smile. "Now I better go check on my partner before Hetty tears him down to nothing."

And he knew as he returned to the ground floor that Nate was going to be okay.

Hetty was still talking with Sam when he got there, and Sam was crouched low in his chair like a schoolboy caught doing something naughty. Callen grinned at him and at the help-me look Sam gave him.

"Ah, Mister Callen." Hetty sat back in her chair, her eyes snapping with fierce amusement at Sam's discomfort. "How's our Doctor Getz?"

"Nate's good," he said. "But he needs to brush up on his chess."

"Thank you for explaining it to him."

Because of course that was what she had sent him to do. Not just to make sure he was okay or tell him he'd done well – but to make Nate understand the part he played in their game. To ensure that Nate realized they were better with him there, and that his actions made a difference. Nate's career was taking him in new directions, putting him to use in situations across the world, and part of the reason he could do it was because he had his feet planted firmly in the NCIS LA office.

And he would always have a place with them, no matter what.

"Now." And Hetty sent Callen a lightning-sharp look. "I haven't quite finished with Mister Hanna yet, so if you would excuse us…"

"G, don't go," Sam pleaded.

G looked between his partner and Hetty, and instantly knew which of them was more dangerous to cross.

"Sorry, buddy. I'll say nice things at your funeral if you don't make it."

"G!" Sam sat up in the chair and reached for him like a lifeline. "You can't just…"

"He _can_ and he _will_ , Mister Hanna."

Callen could count on both hands the number of times he'd seen Hetty taking such unrepentant glee from tormenting anyone, and never Sam amongst her victims, and he knew he would be her next target if he deprived her of it now.

"G!"

"See you tomorrow!" Callen yelled over his shoulder as he practically bolted from the office.

And he couldn't _hear_ Hetty cackling in triumph, but he knew she did anyway.


	85. S4E13 The Chosen One

Sorry for the lateness on this one. This is the week before my annual descent into hilarity and nerd-dom. Which is to say, next week is the SF/F convention I work 24/7 for 4 days: CONvergence in Minnesota. If any of you happen to be attendees, let me know!

For that reason, there will be no update for the next 2 weeks – I simply won't have the brainpower. I'll be back on the 15th of July.

In the meantime – enjoy!

* * *

Season 4, Episode 13: The Chosen One

* * *

"You were right."

He didn't even turn around as he said it, knowing Hetty was standing there in the darkened hallway outside his kitchen. Instead, he moved to the stove to start the tea.

"Yes, I was," she said, stepping into the light and moving to sit at his table. "It was a dangerous operation, totally unpredictable, and could have ended in the worst way possible."

She sighed.

"But you were also right, Mister Callen."

He tipped his head. "How so?"

"Although there were no others involved in the attack, if we had gone in without full knowledge of the situation, it is very probable we would have triggered the explosion anyway." She lowered her gaze. "I wouldn't authorize it again, but I cannot regret the choice we made. You saved a number of innocent lives."

"Lost a few along the way, though." And he said it flippantly, but there was an ache in his words somewhere.

"True." She shook her head. "I am ever more grateful for Mister Hanna, however."

"Me, too." And he really meant it.

"I noticed in your reports that there was no mention made of clearing Miss Blye and Mister Deeks from the scene before you allowed Mister Hanna to defuse the bombs," she said, and now her gaze was piercingly sharp. "It isn't the first time, but still. I am surprised."

Callen raised an eyebrow.

"Standard bomb tech procedure is to limit the number of people down-range," she said. "Mistakes can happen, even to the best of us. Most bomb units would not permit extra personnel to be placed at risk."

He swallowed.

"They are your team, Mister Callen. And I know your trust in them, and theirs in you, is unbreakable." She pinned him with her eyes. "But you must consider if that trust is worth risking more lives than necessary."

"Even if I had ordered them to leave, I don't know that they would have gone," he said. And he hated it because he was sure that they would have argued with him and would have stayed to the end.

"I know." She nodded. "But it is worth reminding you sometimes that you do have a responsibility to keep them out of harm's way when possible. That's what it is to be the leader. Your life for theirs."

He looked away from her gaze, staring at the slowly heating teapot instead.

"When I got made and they tied me down with that vest, I thought for sure I was done. There haven't been many tighter spots that I've gotten out of. A few," and he made an attempt at a smirk, "but not many."

"And lately, even more rarely for you to be alone."

"Yeah. You weren't even in my ear this time. It was just me and the bombs." He felt his hands close into fists. "And I realized...I was so glad that it was me and not Sam who went in on this one. That they were looking for someone who was white. Because if someone had to go down, I didn't want it to be him. I didn't want it to be any of them."

"And I," she said very, very softly, "didn't want it to be _you_ , either."

He looked up and saw that she was deliberately facing away from him.

"Damn your quick study with languages." Her voice was steady, but her own hands were clenched on the edge of the table. "If you had been even a bit less competent, I would have scrubbed the whole thing."

"Hetty." He took a step towards her. "I'm sorry."

"No, Mister Callen. I'm sorry." And she turned back and looked as she did every day in the office, composed and serene. "It is our job to do these things, no matter how dangerous. And we both know the price that may be demanded of us. Your courage saved many lives today."

And he knew that the discussion was over, that she didn't want to continue it further. So he just nodded and turned back to the counter so he could get out the mugs.

"But there is just one thing, Mister Callen."

He paused as he was reaching for the tin of tea. "What?"

"Next time, you _put in the damn earbud_ so we can communicate with you. Or I will feed you to those fish myself, Mister Callen, and that's a promise."

The rough growl in her voice meant everything was going to be okay, and for the first time since he'd put on the pair of glasses, he was able to really relax.

"Understood."


	86. S4E14 Kill House

Season 4, Episode 14: Kill House

* * *

Callen found the note tucked into the seat of his chair the next day. He wasn't surprised to find it – Hetty left him notes all the time. Mostly about his paperwork, or lack thereof. But no. He was surprised that the handwriting was Nell's.

"I don't know how to say this exactly, but I wanted to tell you thanks. And not just for what happened in the kill house. You've been helping me since I got here. When they grabbed me, I was scared, but I knew that you would come after me because that's what you do. And when you and your team were up on that balcony looking down at us, I knew you would understand what I was going to do.

"What you and Sam told me about that headhunter, it really meant a lot to me. I haven't got the same training you have, but I've learned a lot from you, and from Hetty. When I reached for the mag, I felt just like you said that headhunter did. It wasn't just my hand – it was yours and Sam's and Kensi's and Deeks's and Hetty's. I could trust the training because you were all there with me, not up on the balcony, but right beside me.

"I haven't lived the same way the rest of you have, so I'm not learning strength in a do-or-die, trial-by-fire kind of way. I'm leaning it by watching yours. I have a lot more to learn, but I got through the kill house because you showed me how.

"So thank you for being the hand to teach me how to do this. And thanks for trusting me to decide what to do about Granger, too. I know if I hadn't forgiven him, you were ready to call him out. But I think this was the better way.

"Anyway, I'm probably just rambling and maybe you don't even want me to do this at all. But I needed to say thanks, and I knew I couldn't do it in person.

"It's an honor being part of your team, Callen. No matter what, I'll always be someone you can call on for help. It's the very least I can do.

"Nell."

G read it twice, then carefully folded it up.

He pulled out a piece of paper of his own and scrawled a quick message:

"You're welcome. And you can call me any time, day or night, anywhere in the world, and I'll come. You're right – you are part of my team. Don't ever forget it."

It took a matter of seconds for him to pick the lock on Nell's locker and shove it inside.

Then he returned to her letter. There was a part of him that wanted to destroy it, that didn't want such honesty to be readable by anyone else – and there was a cynical, experienced part of himself that always worried about leaving traces for enemies to follow back to the people he cared about. But there was also a part of him that wanted to keep it, wanted to hold onto those words which were so innocent and so heartfelt.

So he decided on a third course of action.

He wrote a note on the folded side of the paper and put it in Hetty's desk.

When Hetty found it shortly thereafter, she was moved both by Nell's words and by Callen's own:

"I think you should have this. You have always been the strength at my side, and the hand steadying my weapon, too. You gave me this training that saved Nell. I don't say it enough. Thank you."

Hetty folded the paper up carefully and tucked it into a corner of her desk where it would be safe.

"You're welcome, Mister Callen," she said softly to the empty air.

But she knew he heard it even from across the room.


	87. S4E15 History

Season 4, Episode 15: History

* * *

Callen didn't miss how everyone made the assumption that he would be there with them in that distant, impossible future where they all survived to retire and had lives that didn't involve dodging bullets. Sam assumed Callen would still be Uncle Callen, or Great Uncle Callen by then, hanging out with grandchildren. Deeks had some idea he would want anything to do with his idiot dog, fourth generation. Nell was already recruiting him to the 'Blye-Jones' administration, and, honestly, he thought that might be the best thing ever to happen to the country; between the two of them, Kensi and Nell could run the whole world and people like him wouldn't be necessary anymore.

But that was still making a huge assumption.

That he would survive this life long enough to have another one.

The lot of them had been drawn back into the larger party for Morgan – G recognized him only because he was the one wearing the crown; he was the guy with the ears and that one shirt, and even with the crown he was practically invisible in the crowd – and he found himself scanning the room.

Of the analysts, the office workers, the IT and HR and other normal functions, there were people of all ages. But Callen had only ever known a handful of true agents to reach fifty or beyond.

Most of his peers ended up in the ground without ever living the life of a civilian.

And yet Sam and Kensi and Deeks all assumed there would be more. That they would beat the odds, that they would have a future. Or, now that he considered it, maybe it wasn't about beating the odds. Maybe it wasn't a blind assumption.

Because he would take a hundred bullets himself before he'd let them go down.

Maybe they could believe in the future because they were a team. Because the team was stronger than one person acting alone. Because the team could succeed where an agent would fail. Because the team could watch each other's backs until their last day on the job.

And maybe that extended to him as well.

Callen had never had a past – he was an enigma, shuffled from home to home, foster family to foster family, never knowing his name or his identity or his family or his history. He'd never been part of a culture, never known his own people, never felt the roots of history grounding and centering him.

The life of a spy made sense when you had nothing to lose.

But now, watching Sam and Deeks go at it with Kensi and Nell, and Eric alternately helping and hindering them both, he wondered if maybe he could compensate for his lack of a past by building a future instead.

And if he did that, then he knew exactly where he wanted to be and who he wanted to have there beside him.

It gave him more reason than ever to make sure they all made it through alive. More reason to protect his team, to fight for them, to keep them safe to the end. So they could have that end together.

Then he glanced across the room at Hetty.

Though he had lived his first fifteen years without her, he couldn't imagine a world in which she wasn't constantly there at his side, guiding him, teaching him, supporting him. Everything he was becoming had its roots in what she had given him.

So maybe he had roots and a history after all.

She caught his eye and gave him a small smile. He could read it as if she were speaking.

 _I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere any time soon._

He swallowed. _Don't go. It won't be the same without you. I won't be the same without you._

Her smile went a little sadder, a little more gentle. But instead she rapped upon the nearest surface and silence fell upon the crowd.

"Well, as we are all here celebrating Mister Morgan's transition to another life, I should like to say a few words. I promise to keep them short enough to satisfy even the most impatient of you who are waiting for the next round of drinks to be served."

The lump in Callen's throat abruptly dissolved and he had to fight not to laugh.

"The journey of life takes us all on many twists and turns. Mister Morgan, it has been a pleasure to share this part of your path with you." She paused for a brief applause. "The office shall not be quite the same without your presence, and yet."

And her eyes landed squarely on G for an instant.

"Nothing is ever truly gone from us. Something cannot be lost when it lives in the air we breathe, to say nothing of the organization of our filing system or the arrangement of those particular shelves. And I won't even mention the kitchen."

More laughter, and G's chest was tight.

"Mister Morgan, as you go forward, know that you carry each and every one of us with you. As we will carry you with us. All of us are forever changed for sharing this part of the journey with you, and there is no step we will take from now on which does not, in some way, keep you alongside us."

She raised her drink and everyone responded in kind.

"I wish you a happy, peaceful, and thoroughly organized retirement, Mister Morgan. Thank you for the mark you have left in our lives and in the lives of all the people we touch."

Callen raised his glass, but it was Hetty he saluted.


	88. S4E16 Lohkay

Hi all! I'm back!

I have also decided to slow down posting from 3 or 4 chapters a week to two. This means we will have chapters into next year, but it takes a huge stress off my mind. I hope this works out – I double-checked a lot of the breaks and I think this will be fun even when it's also weird!

Everybody having a good July?

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 4, Episode 16: Lohkay

* * *

The text arrived shortly after Hetty had settled into her house for the night.

"You made him pay for the scotch? That's cold."

She chuckled. Leave it to Mister Callen to be protective of his partner to the last. Instead of texting her reply, she called him.

He answered on the first ring. "First the Challenger, now scotch? You trying to bankrupt the man?"

"He misused federal resources," she said calmly. "I had to sanction him in some meaningful way or Owen would have done it himself."

"So...you were protecting Sam from Granger...by docking his pay?"

"That is one of the accepted forms of punishment in our line of work, yes."

She could hear him pacing on the bare floorboards of his house. It still irked her that he had forgone all furniture save for the table and chair in the kitchen, a chair by the fireplace, and a few tiny bits here and there. He even continued to sleep on the floor.

But at least he slept in his own house and not every random hotel and motel in the city, so that was an improvement.

"I don't know if you're brilliant or just cruel," he said at last.

"Occasionally, one must be both," she replied.

He sighed. "Do me a favor?"

"Yes, Mister Callen?"

"Take half of it out of mine. The scotch _and_ the Challenger."

She was pleased, but not surprised. She did know her agents, after all.

"Why, Mister Callen?"

Though she could guess at the answer, she also knew it was good for him to say it aloud.

"You asked me to keep an eye on my partner. And I did. But I shouldn't have let him go to the boathouse alone. It was my job to keep him safe and keep his head in the game."

"If you had been with him, you'd have been unable to help with the rescue," she said.

"If I'd been with him, he might not have needed to be rescued. We both know I might have seen something Sam missed because he was distracted."

"This whole situation isn't your fault, Mister Callen. Sam went down this road before you even arrived today."

"I know." And there was heaviness in it. "But still. He's my partner, and I'm his team leader. It's my responsibility. So, please. Make it fair."

She smiled. Every time she thought she had seen the full capacity of that boy's loyalty, he surprised her again.

"Very well, Mister Callen. I'll make the arrangements in the morning."

"Thanks, Hetty."

She could hear the pause in him before he spoke again.

"You know...that thing about how Yusef took Sam in and protected him when he was vulnerable, how he was honor-bound to treat him with respect and defend him?"

She had a feeling she could guess where he was going with this, too, but she simply said, "Yes?"

"Sam would do anything to repay Yusef for that. It made them more than just strangers or even acquaintances. It made them family."

"Sam is a very loving individual, Mister Callen, and he holds tightly to those to whom he has forged a connection."

"Yeah." She could almost feel the smile in his voice. "Thanks for being my Yusef – and a lot more than that."

She smiled at the warmth. How much more easily it came to him now than it had once upon a time.

"Good night, Mister Callen."

"Good night, Hetty."


	89. S4E17 Wanted

Season 4, Episode 17: Wanted

* * *

Within seconds of Sam leaving the building, Callen stopped lurking in the bullpen and made his way to Hetty's office. He didn't slow down even when he saw her cold anger, though he knew he probably should have made his exit when he had the chance.

"Your partner," she said, "is reaching the end of my patience."

Callen nodded. "Nothing about this was going to go well, though. Even if you hadn't kept him in lockup, Sam was always going to – "

She cut him off with a gesture.

"And that is the problem." She turned to walk back to her desk.

Callen fell in beside her and settled in his usual chair. But this wasn't a comfortable talk – she sat behind the desk with her spine straight and her eyes flashing. Callen's instinct was to deflect that hostility, to ease her out of it as he usually did, but this time he knew it would only get worse if he tried.

Hetty had reason to be angry, and she intended to stay angry for a while yet.

"You of all people, Mister Callen, understand why an agent _cannot_ let personal feelings interfere with a mission. _Especially_ one of this magnitude."

"Michelle is his wife," he said, defending Sam anyway.

"And there are _three nuclear bombs_ loose in this country!" She slammed a hand down on her desk. "I sympathize with Mister Hanna, I truly do, but even a man's wife cannot outweigh the safety of millions of people."

Callen flinched, but he still launched the only attack he had left. "You went to Prague for me."

"And think how it could have turned out," she replied. "If the Comescu family had had any sense, they would have sold me to the highest bidder the instant I was in their hands. And right now I would probably be spilling my guts to the greatest enemies of this nation." She shook her head. "Or they could have taken down you and your team as well and had us all."

"But you did it anyway. And I would do it again."

If anything, she grew angrier. "Do _not_ justify Sam's recent, reckless actions by bringing up my own poor choices – or yours. It will not serve you well."

G nodded. "He hasn't exactly had the best run of luck lately."

"We make our own luck," she shot back. "That circumstances have not been kind to Mister Hanna is no excuse for his behavior. Any other person in my position would be well within their rights to fire him for today's events. I'm surprised Assistant Director Granger hasn't already demanded it."

He was going to object, but fell back. "He hasn't?"

"No. I convinced him that Sam had not endangered the mission, that it was the CIA who failed so spectacularly in blending in and therefore blew the operation. But Owen is not going to be willing to endure many more outbursts like this."

He blinked. "That's why you wanted to keep him in jail. It wasn't just because you thought Sidorov might try to kill him. It was because you wouldn't be able to protect him from prosecution if he risked the mission to save Michelle."

She looked at him as if he were a slow, stupid squirrel. "Obviously."

G sat back. "You were right. You didn't trust that Sam would be able to stay on the sidelines, and he couldn't. It worked out...but it might not have."

"And Sam's career would be over, Michelle would still be compromised, Sidorov would still have the nuclear devices, and we would be in no position to do anything about any of it." She shook her head, some of the furious tension finally leaching out of her shoulders. "As it is, the only thing we have saved is Sam's career. The rest was ruined as soon as those agents got made."

"So, not only was it all for nothing, but we actually lost ground." Callen looked up at her. "But you can't know that it wouldn't have happened anyway with Sam there the whole time."

"No, but he _was_ there. Which makes everything worse – and far more complicated."

Hetty reached up and rubbed at her forehead just above her glasses, a gesture Callen saw only when she was supremely frustrated.

"We'll make it right," he said. "We'll get Sidorov and the nukes."

"Yes, we will, Mister Callen." She lowered her hand and he saw an old desolation in her eyes for a fleeting instant. The same he had seen when they first learned about the nuclear bombs, the weight of a lifetime keeping those nightmares at bay. "We will because we have no other choice."

"I...I'll do what I can about Sam," he said. "I don't know how much it will help, but I'll try."

"No more mistakes, Mister Callen. We simply can't afford them any longer."

She rose and gathered her things, beginning to head for the door.

Callen stood up and called after her. "For what it's worth, I still can't believe that trying to save you was a bad choice. If you really regret going to Prague...I guess I can't say much about it. But I don't regret coming after you. I don't consider it to be a mistake."

"Oh, Mister Callen." She sighed. "In our business, a person learns to feel one thing with the heart and know something else entirely with the brain. My brain, my training, my experience – they all hold up the situation in Romania as a colossal failure of judgement on my part, and a potentially disastrous one at that. But my heart is another matter."

"So is Sam's," he dared.

"I know. If he were acting for any other reason, he would be in danger of losing my trust instead of only my patience." She waved a hand. "It's going to be a hard road for us all, Mister Callen. I'm counting on you to guide your partner before he ends up dead in a ditch along the way. Or drives us all off a cliff in a nuclear fireball."

He could tell she really meant it.

"Sam's been there for me so many times. I'll have his back all the way down."

"I know you will," she said. "But the trouble is – can you do what is right as an agent even if it means doing what is wrong for your partner?"

And Callen found he couldn't answer her either way.

"That's what I am afraid of."


	90. S4E18 Red Part 1

So, the Red 2-parter is a bit of a weird one. I know it was meant to be a launching point for the new series (that didn't materialize, unfortunately), but it really had a lot of good ideas on its own as well. It bothers me, though, because it's obvious when you watch it that there were Things In Place that never made it into the light of day. If or when you rewatch these two episodes, keep an eye on Hetty – she is CLEARLY communicating more than meets the eye.

Oh well. I tried to close the loop as best I could.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 4, Episode 18: Red, Part 1

* * *

Callen was awake on the narrow bunk, periodically wondering when, not if, Sam's leg would end up dangling a few inches from his face. Sam was a sound sleeper, and short of actually rolling off the thing, one foot sliding off wouldn't wake the guy. Callen felt a little bit regretful that it was Sam up there and not himself, but ultimately, Granger was more willing to endure Sam's ire than Callen's.

And neither of them outranked Granger enough to put _him_ up there.

Fortunately, at least Sam didn't snore.

Unfortunately, Granger did.

And Callen couldn't do anything about it. It wasn't why he was awake – he didn't sleep much as a general rule and even less in unfamiliar territory – but it certainly didn't help.

Having exhausted considering the angles of the case, he instead turned his mind to Hetty.

Their last communication between Ops and the Red Team had contained layers, and even he knew he didn't get all of them. But he could piece together a few. For example, the way Hetty interacted with Paris suggested their previous connection was more than just in passing at the agency. Callen would have bet his paycheck that Hetty had run Paris as an agent or an asset at some point.

That told him something else. Hetty wanted him to get along with Paris, and not just in the usual interdepartmental cooperation. She wanted them to get along as people.

But why _that_ mattered, he couldn't say.

Although, it wouldn't be the first time that Hetty attempted to pair Callen with someone who met most of the criteria for a person he might genuinely like. She'd done it with Sam, though in an entirely different capacity. And there had been other agents with whom he had worked closely that were just as driven, capable, and quirky enough to suit him.

He'd once, teasingly, asked if Hetty was trying to set him up with a girl.

Her frank answer in the affirmative had surprised him then.

Now he knew differently. Now he knew that Hetty had gone out of her way to try to find him a family – first in the foster system, later in various agencies. Now he knew that Hetty had been trying to help him find what he had lost when she couldn't save his mother, and apparently that extended to romance as well.

Personally, G thought it wasn't exactly fair that Hetty was trying to set him up when she herself had no one. But then, Hetty wasn't exactly the romantic type.

On the other hand, neither was Callen as far as he knew.

But there was something else, something in the way Hetty had given him a sharp glance before signing off. Something in her expression that no one else had understood – though G knew Granger had seen it, even if he hadn't comprehended it.

There was a silent warning there. An uncertainty. A variable yet in play.

 _Things are more complicated than they seem._

He was half-tempted to text her now to ask her about it, but opted against it. If for no other reason, finding out what she had in mind would be interesting in itself. He didn't really know what he thought about Paris yet, other than that she was an effective agent and leader, but if Hetty saw something, it was at least worth looking into.

And if Paris did have a secret, one which left Hetty wary, he would find it out.

There was a sound from above and Sam's leg came swinging down, hanging just over G's face.

Callen could have hugged his partner for being one of the most meticulous men he'd never known – Sam's socked foot didn't smell bad. It was the only reason G would leave it there unpoked or prodded.

G closed his eyes and mentally decided to get up extra early. He didn't want to be under here if and when Sam rolled out of bed, and he definitely didn't want to get kicked on the way down.

Maybe he could catch Paris alone in the morning. She struck him as an early riser sort of person. And people tended to be a little more open and a little easier to read first thing, especially if the rest of the team was in bed.

 _Complicated, huh Hetty? I'm okay with complicated. Let's see what you're scheming this time._


	91. S4E19 Red Part 2

Season 4, Episode 19: Red, Part 2

* * *

Sam had turned the music on, and he was either working on his beat-boxing or else had taken up some kind of strange vocal exercises, and Callen decided it was just not worth asking. Instead, he pulled out his phone.

"It won't work," he sent to Hetty. "She's in love with Roy."

Her response came a few minutes later. "Worth a try?"

He let out a breath and considered the arid landscape for a few moments, composing an answer.

"In general? I don't know. Not relevant with her, anyway."

Now her answer was immediate. "You're very similar people. And she's someone you could trust."

Callen mentally translated that as "she's someone I could trust with you" and that raised Paris another notch in his estimation. Hetty didn't let just anybody that close to her people. Everyone was always hand-picked for suitability.

He still wasn't entirely clear how she always knew, though. Maybe it was just one of those superpowers unique to Henrietta Lange.

"I don't really need to be set up," he finally sent. "I'm good with what I have."

She didn't text back for several minutes.

Callen eventually texted again. "Did you actually want me on the Red Team?"

Now her answer was much quicker.

"Not exactly. Unless you wanted to go. They could certainly use your skills."

"Maybe. But Sam's not leaving his family, and I'm not leaving him."

Her next response surprised him. "Is that really why?"

He frowned. "Is that really why what?"

"Is it that Sam wouldn't leave his family, or you don't want to leave yours?"

Ah. He tipped his head back against the seat for a moment and glanced across at his partner. Sam was still doing that rhythmic spitting thing, and Callen was definitely going to taunt him about it when he finished with Hetty. But he couldn't really go back and forth with them both simultaneously, so he refocused on Hetty.

"Both," he typed back. "Sam's my partner and I'm not giving that up. Not unless or until he wants out. And I'm not asking him to leave his family any more than I want to leave Kensi and Deeks on their own with you and Eric and Nell."

"I see."

"You were right about one thing, though. Paris and I are a lot alike. And I think we're both where we belong now."

"And what do you think of her and Roy?"

Callen raised his eyebrows. "I think they've got to figure it out. But she has her team and her partner. And I have mine."

"So you do, Mister Callen. See you in a few hours, then."

He could feel her smile and knew it wasn't smug or disappointed. He wondered suddenly if that was the entire point to all this. Not just to possibly set him up with someone, but to give him an option which would make him assess his current situation. If he had wanted out, wanted a change of scenery or people, the Red Team would have been a good fit.

Instead, it made him even more certain that he knew where he belonged.

Hetty never really did have just one move in play, after all.

He shook his head.

"Something up?" Sam asked.

"No." He put the phone away. "Just Hetty being Hetty."

"Is she ever anyone else?" he asked.

G grinned. "Well, at least she isn't spraying spit all over the inside of the windshield."

"Spraying spit? Seriously?" Sam glared at him for a second before returning his eyes to the road. "I'm working on my beatboxing."

"I've seen camels with more rhythm."

"I'll show you a camel, you uneducated, unmusical, couldn't-dance-if-his-life-depended-on-it…"

And G smiled all the way through Sam's rant. Yes, he was exactly where he belonged.


	92. S4E20 Purity

As a reminder, this is the episode when some domestic terrorists try to use cyanide to poison the water supply of LA, and in the middle Callen gets locked in a warehouse exposed to the poison. In the end, they save the day, of course, but Callen has to shoot the group's leader, and very nearly the man's young son who has been coerced/brainwashed into continuing his father's work. It's a tense as hell episode, and therefore rife for Hetty to have Feelings.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 4, Episode 20: Purity

* * *

Hetty answered almost before the first ring had finished. "Mister Callen?"

"Hetty, I need a favor?"

"Anything."

It was a slip, but she felt it was a fair one. Callen had been poisoned today, and had barely been able to administer the antidote to himself. He had spent two hours in a secure room at the hospital being monitored for cyanide poisoning, almost unable to move. Sam had been with Kensi and Deeks, processing the scene and starting to work on possible targets with Eric and Nell back in the office.

Hetty had been with her agent and her heart could have broken at the way his hands shook.

And yet, as soon as he was cleared of all but the last residual side effects, Callen had hauled himself out of bed, nearly falling, eyes blazing. Because his team was going up against the men who had done this to him, and he would lead them or die trying.

She could have ordered him to stand down – the shaking hands could legitimately have endangered the mission. But she knew her agent well enough to know that G Callen would have gone on this one with a bullet in the chest. His team needed him.

Especially because she already knew he was going to designate Sam to cover the exit and coordinate with rescue services.

Apparently he was taking protecting Sam – and by extension, Sam's family – quite seriously on this one.

"You will call me to confirm if you are suffering any kind of reaction when it is over," she had said when she finally gave him the green light. "I will be monitoring you from Ops, but I want to hear from you directly."

"I will."

So, Hetty could forgive herself for her lapse when he finally did call.

"Alex Fryman is here," he said, and she could hear the tension in his voice. "His dad put him up to pulling the trigger on the cyanide."

"Is he hurt?"

She prayed that Callen hadn't had to shoot the boy. He would have – she had no doubts about that. Her other agents might have hesitated or outright refused, but G Callen would have taken that boy's life without a moment's doubt if it was necessary. It would tear him apart to do so, but he would have done it.

"No." But the shadow in his voice told her how close it had been.

It also told her what he needed.

"I will arrange for social services and foster care for him," she said. "We'll need to keep him close because he is a witness, but there's no reason for him to end up in juvenile detention at this time."

She could hear his sigh of relief. "Thanks, Hetty. And...make it a good one? He's been through a lot."

She smiled. That boy would be looking out for the outcasts and the orphans of the world until his dying day.

"I have many contacts still, Mister Callen. Mister Fryman will be well cared for."

She didn't say how the house she would choose had not been around in Callen's time, how she would have put him there in an instant if it had been an option. He already knew that. He already knew that she had tried to give him a home so many times, but none of them really worked – until her own.

"Good. I'm also going to need the morning off."

"You have an appointment at the hospital," she reminded him.

"After that. I want to check in on Alex. Make sure he's really okay."

She smiled. "I think that would be very appropriate."

"Do you still have my old glove?"

It took her a moment to place the reference – baseball. Of course. "Yes, I think so."

"I'll need that, too."

"Very well, Mister Callen. I think that can be arranged. However."

"Something wrong, Hetty?"

"In return, I require something from you." She kept her tone light so he knew she wasn't really holding the safety and comfort of Alex Fryman over him. "First, I am not digging around in that particular attic for your long-lost baseball equipment, so you will have to acquire it yourself."

"Fair enough." She could hear the smile in his voice – of course he knew what was coming next.

"And you will agree to remain where I can supervise you overnight, in case of any further complications from your cyanide poisoning."

He huffed. "Getting protective on me, Hetty?"

Well, although it was true, she certainly wasn't going to admit to it. But they both knew that if their positions had been reversed, he wouldn't have strayed from her side for days. Where Callen was overtly protective of her, she tended towards a more covert watchfulness. As she had watched him from the beginning.

And her boy had been poisoned today, and she had been forced to sit with him while his fingers spasmed and he shuddered uncontrollably. He was all right, and he was strong enough to face the ill effects with calm acceptance, but taking care of him after such an ordeal was her prerogative and she would not relinquish it.

"Do we have an agreement?"

"Text me the foster home address for Alex. I'll be over as soon as I drop him off. And Hetty?"

"Yes, Mister Callen."

"Thank you." She knew he intended to imply that the thanks were for her assurances on behalf of Alex Fryman, but she heard the rest of what he meant. He had gone into the field with his team, but he was still recovering.

And while his habit when vulnerable was to stay away, hers was increasingly to pull him near.

"You're most welcome."


	93. S4E21 Resurrection

This episode doesn't have much to do with the oneshot I wrote – I just borrowed the "we're going to a basketball game" bit from the end and took it from there. Mainly because the episode that comes right after this one is "Ravens & Swans," which is one of the longest of these oneshots across the first 7 seasons. So a little one made sense against what's coming next week.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 4, Episode 21: Resurrection

* * *

The next morning, Hetty found an orange foam finger on her desk with a note attached.

"I know you're more of a Lakers fan, but if Kensi and Deeks hadn't agreed to babysit, I'd have invited you anyway. Here's your souvenir."

Hetty rolled her eyes. Then she picked up the distasteful, tacky thing, and carried it to the firing range.

Somehow, she was not surprised to find Callen there, practicing shooting with his off-hand. It wasn't something he did terribly often, but especially after the cyanide poisoning some weeks earlier, he had been working a little harder to ensure he could shoot in almost any circumstances.

He paused as she came in and smirked. "Morning, Hetty."

"Mister Callen." She brandished the foam finger. "Is this your idea of a gift?"

"I just saw it and I thought you'd like it." His smirk widened. "Just think. With that thing, you could wave one finger from your office and everybody could see it!"

She knew at once that he had given her the thing in a fit of impishness, the exact sort of which he mostly reserved for his team. But when it was turned in her direction, it tended to involve something utterly nonsensical – such as a novelty item from her own team's rival.

She could also tell from his expression that he fully expected her to deny it vehemently, and that such was the fun of it.

She could have disappointed him, of course, thanked him graciously, and given it back to him for Christmas in a year.

But today it was more fun to play along.

"I'm about to wave a finger in your general direction, Mister Callen, and you won't appreciate it one bit."

He laughed.

Hetty marched to an open slot on the range and set the finger down just long enough to acquire her own ear and eye protection. Then she called the target to her position and turned back to him.

"If you would please do the honors."

"Really?" He set down his gun and crossed to her. "This is the thanks I get for a present I bought you with my own money on my own time?"

"I am simply treating this item in the same spirit in which it was given," she replied.

"Oh. Well, then, in that case." And he clipped the finger by the bottom to the target and sent it back to the end of the range.

She pinned him with a glare. "When it comes to the Hallway Series, Mister Callen, there can only be one victor."

And she pulled her gun and proceeded to methodically shoot every bullet through the upside-down Clippers logo. When her clip was spent, she set the gun down and held out a hand.

"Now, that's just cold," Callen said. "Ruining a man's present with his own sidearm."

"Do not make me ask again."

He handed over his gun, chuckling, and she finished destroying the foam finger with his bullets instead.

"Now." She handed him back his now-empty gun and removed her ear and eye protection. "You will clean and reload both firearms, and remove that _thing_ from the range."

He glanced to where the once-proud foam finger was now shaped more like a distressed, used loofah.

"I think you pretty much removed it yourself."

"All to the good, then."


	94. S4E22 Raven and the Swans

This episode is one of those that is just so, so strong. We are introduced to Grace, another kid Hetty raised and taught, and we see one of the rare fights between Callen and Hetty – she even raises her voice, she's so angry. Callen learns that he was not the only kid she took in and trained, and they have a lot of work to do between them to resolve the many hard feelings that arose.

It is one of my favorite episodes because of what it did to them, and one of my favorite oneshots because it gave me a ton of room to incorporate this episode into the overall canon of the show. Hetty's explanations leave more questions than answers – so I gave her answers.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 4, Episode 22: Raven & the Swans

* * *

"Thank you, Mister Callen. I'd like to think I have."

He swallowed, the smooth burn of the whiskey still present in the back of his throat.

"So...is that what I was? A Raven?"

"On paper, yes."

He was surprised. "On paper?"

"Understand that by the time you became a part of my household, I was at the end of the Mayberry project – no, that wasn't its name, but it will do for this purpose. I had been assigned as one of a few who would take in orphans and prepare them, if they were suitable, for our line of work. This was in the interim period between when I last saw your mother and when she contacted me for extraction. I believe you were about two years old when I took in my first child."

G sat back, watching her closely. He knew she didn't have to tell him all this, but she was doing it anyway – and he needed to hear it.

"You spent three months with Alina Rostoff's family, and it was enough to leave an impact on you for life. Imagine what I could do with six months and a concentrated agenda."

He blinked. "Those kids would have thought they won the lottery."

"And, in a way, they did," she said. "The ones who came to me were the best of the best, found by experts carefully placed in the child services workforce and vetted by random encounters and arranged situations. By the time they came to me, they had been primed for years for their future. But I still had final say."

She gave a small smile.

"The only reason I agreed to participate in the project at all was if I had the ultimate authority to drop a prospective child from the program at will. For the ten or so years I was a part of it, I pulled about a third of the children from the Mayberry program and sent them on to other things."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because that was what was best for them." She looked down at her glass. "Those children were mine, Mister Callen. I would take them from state care at a young age and bond with them before handing them over to a foster family of retired agents to raise them until they were old enough. Then, a normal 'training period' as it was called was six months of time alone with me, but there were exceptions. Sometimes a pair of siblings would come in at the same time and stay longer. Sometimes circumstances necessitated an overlap between them, or a longer initial period before my handoff to their long-term foster families. But the one constant was that, from the instant I claimed them from the system until I sent them onto Langley, they were _my_ children in every way."

He nodded – he'd always felt that himself for the years he had lived with her, too.

"And some of them, in spite of how they proved on the tests or how they performed under controlled circumstances, were not suited to this life. So I recommended they be dropped from consideration."

Callen understood what she wasn't quite saying. "They weren't supposed to know, were they? That this was what you were preparing them for."

"Theoretically, no. But, yes, I did tell them all before the end. They all had a right to decide their own fate – and those who chose not to continue were released on my orders."

G did a little mental math and frowned. "But if they were usually with you for only six months or even a year before they went to Langley…"

"They were already sixteen or seventeen when we began their more intensive training, yes." She nodded. "Like you, I was their last stop before embarking on their career path. But, unlike you, they all met me much earlier, and knew me as something of a fairy godmother – the woman who found them a family, visited them periodically, and sent them presents at Christmas."

"So why was I different?"

She gave him a measuring look. "You know the answer to that, Mister Callen."

"Because of my mom." His voice didn't quite crack, but it gave way a little.

Hetty poured another measure into both of their glasses.

"The Comescu family had killed Clara, and they were searching for you and your sister. When you popped up here in the system, it was decided that it was too dangerous to put you in the Mayberry project for fear it might expose the entire program if the Comesus came looking. The most I was permitted to do was to track your foster placements."

A weight suddenly fell into his stomach.

"That's….that's why I had so many homes," he realized. "You had to move me all the time. In case anybody got too close."

"Exactly," and there was sorrow in her eyes. "If not for the Comescu blood feud, you would have stayed with the Rostoff family until you were old enough to leave the system. But any time there was contact between your foster placement and known criminals with possible ties to Romania, you had to be pulled out immediately."

He sat back. "I always thought it was me."

"No, Mister Callen. It was never your fault. If anything, it was mine."

He looked up and shook his head. "No, Hetty. You were just trying to keep me safe."

"You and all the children in Mayberry," she agreed. "It was also necessary to ensure that you never came into contact with any of the children going through our training, nor any of the foster homes they ever used." She grimaced. "It meant that, at times, we were forced to scrape the bottom of the barrel for your placements because we couldn't afford to put you anywhere that might lead back to the others."

"So what changed?" he asked. "You picked me up after I crashed that car. Why then?"

"By that point, Gorbachev had come to power and the direction of the entire Soviet Union was changing. Also, the Mayberry project was coming to an end – human intelligence was beginning to wane in favor of electronic spying, and fewer agents were needed. I made the argument that it was time to pull you out of limbo and take advantage of your natural abilities, your exposure to multiple languages, and your legacy."

"I was the last?" he asked.

"Yes." She took a sip and closed her eyes. "Once you entered my home, I knew I would never take another child for the same reason I had to keep you distant from them at the time. I could not let the threat hanging over your head fall upon another innocent orphan."

"That's why I never saw any of them." He stared at her. "Hetty, did you cut off all your other children because of me?"

"No!" And she was truly affronted. " _Never_ , Mister Callen. Those children, many of them grown and acting as agents by then, were still mine. But I had to exercise more caution when I saw any of them. How many times did I travel for assignment when you were with me?"

He understood. "And probably met up with one of them every time."

"Precisely. Most of them never knew about the project as such, but they all suspected that I chose them for specific reasons and they could understand I had similar reasons for keeping them out of LA."

Callen nodded, but he was thinking something else entirely. "So...you had all these other kids before me. And you gave them all exactly what you gave me."

"Yes?" She raised an eyebrow.

"But...I'm the reason you came to work here. Because I got shot. And you were still protecting me from the Comescus."

She inclined her head.

He looked up at her and he felt stricken. "Does that mean...you haven't been there for the others because you were watching over me? That Sullivan died because you chose to protect me instead?"

"No, Mister Callen. I have been there for them all when they truly needed me," she said, her voice warm and sure. "You did require special attention on my part, because of your history. The others were all anonymous until they became agents. None of _them_ managed to inherit a blood feud, after all."

"But you're still here," he said, passing over her attempt at humor. "You're still at this NCIS, not back at the CIA or someone else's unit. You're running my team, not Grace's."

"Yes."

"Why?" He was afraid of the answer, but he was more afraid not to ask.

"Turn that question around," she said. "Don't ask why I am running your team here in LA. Ask instead why I _put_ you on the team in LA in the first place."

He stopped and considered. "Because...because this is where you needed me?"

"Indeed." She nodded. "Other than New York and Washington, this city is ground zero for counterterrorism and espionage in this country, Mister Callen. And while New York and Washington DC have their own problems, neither of them is quite so in danger of erupting as LA."

"Because of the cartels," he said.

" _And_ the Chinese, _and_ the Russians, _and_ the North Koreans, _and_ the jihadists," she said. "In many ways, LA is the most dangerous city in this country, and the one most in need of our protection – and you are one of the finest agents I have ever known. _That_ , Mister Callen, is why you were stationed here."

"You came in because I got shot," he said, "and you stayed…"

"Because it was necessary." She smiled. "It was not favoritism on my part, Mister Callen. It was simply an allocation of resources according to situational need."

"Okay." He could live with that. He was okay with that. "Then I just have one more question."

"Yes?"

"Why did you go to Romania alone, when you had twenty or however-many of us who would have gone with you? And how come none of them came after you like I did?"

"Because," she said, and her eyes were bright, "they are still _my_ children. Even now. And I would lay down my life for any one of them. I would _not_ , however, allow them to follow me into such danger. Simply put, Mister Callen, the only ones who knew of it at all were yourself and Lauren Hunter."

"And you ordered her to stay behind and protect me."

"Precisely."

"Right. Well, next time you're in trouble," he said, smirking, "I'm calling in the Hetty Lange Brigade."

"You will do _no such thing_." And her eyes went cold and sharp. Callen half-expected her to yell at him again, so quickly did she turn to fury. "I want your _word_ , Mister Callen. You will _never_ seek out the others, no matter _what_ danger I am in."

He was taken aback. "But why?"

"Because you are all my children. And some of the others are in extremely dangerous positions to begin with, working sensitive cases where the risk of exposure would be deadly. I may not be able to prevent you from your foolish protectiveness, but I will _absolutely_ do whatever it takes to protect the rest of them from theirs."

She glared at him.

"Promise me right now, Mister Callen, or I will request reassignment by morning."

"Hetty, no." He actually stood up. "Don't do that. I just...I thought…"

"I know what you thought," she said, not giving an inch. "But I am asking you this as I have rarely asked anything of you before – you must _never_ call my children into danger on my behalf. I want your solemn vow, Mister Callen, or we are finished here."

All at once, he understood so much more about her than he ever had before. Understood how much she loved him, and loved everyone who had come before him. Understood how much she had done to protect him, and also to protect the others from him and from each other. Understood that Hetty wasn't just the chink in his armor, but the chink in the armors of maybe dozens of other operatives.

Understood that the fall of Hetty Lange would have consequences he couldn't even anticipate across multiple agencies, multiple investigations, maybe even to national security overall.

And he understood that Hetty Lange would rather die right now, tonight, than ever let herself be used against her children or her country. She would even abandon him forever rather than let him or anyone else use her children's loyalty.

"I'll promise you, but on one condition," he said, holding out his hand.

Hetty was still angry, but she nodded. "Go on."

"I won't...I won't go looking for them. I won't try to find out who they all are. And I won't call them in. Ever. No matter what happens to you." That part made his stomach churn, but he persevered. "But, in return, you have to let me help you protect them. The next time Grace or another one of them is in trouble, even if you don't tell the others...let me help you watch out for them."

She tipped her head. "Why?"

"Because...they're family, too. They're _my_ family. Because of you. And I don't ever want another Sullivan or Hunter. From now on, let me help you protect my...cousins."

And she smiled, and he could have sworn there were tears in her eyes.

Hetty took his hand and clasped it between both of her own. "Agreed, Mister Callen. And thank you."

He sat back down and raised his glass to her. "To family. The only thing that matters."

She held her glass to his. "To family, Mister Callen. Now and forever."


	95. S4E23 Parley

This was an episode with Deeks undercover, reviving an old alias and spending a lot of intimate time with a girl with her eye on him. Kensi struggles to handle all her feelings. Their communication really is awful at this point. Callen noticed.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 4, Episode 23: Parley

* * *

Just as Hetty shut her laptop, her phone pinged with a text.

"They're really bad at this."

She smiled. She wasn't surprised that Callen had spotted what was so readily apparent.

"They are still learning," she sent back.

"Do you think it will become a problem?"

"No. Do you?"

His response took a few moments before it arrived.

"No. But they better resolve it one way or another. Soon."

"Why so impatient?" she sent.

"If they don't figure it out, Sam's going to lock them in the armory."

She laughed. "I would not recommend that tactic."

"It works, though. Apparently it worked for Sam."

Hetty wondered who would have the audacity to lock Sam and Michelle in a room together and assume they would come out with anything but a desire to take it out of their flesh.

Callen texted again.

"But it was Sam who did it, so…"

 _Ah, of course_. "I would rather my armory not be used to such a purpose," she sent.

"We'd make them clean it afterwards."

 _Oh, that ridiculous boy_. "I'm glad you're not bothered by it," she sent.

"Nope. Everybody deserves to find what they're looking for."

She smiled and nodded. "Yes. Indeed they do."


	96. S4E24 Descent

I am so sorry for the delay, and especially before this awful 2-parter. There's been a lot of stuff in my life right now as we're possibly preparing to say goodbye to someone who has been the cornerstone of my family for far longer than I've been alive. If I end up missing weeks in the future, that will be why. Until then, though, I'll try to get back to normal.

Here goes the end of season 4 and the start of the wild ride that is season 5.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 4, Episode 24: Descent

* * *

"Mister Callen, control your emotions."

The words echoed in his head every second. Hetty's voice circled around and around, laying a blanket over everything else. Janvier had sold Sam and Deeks to Sidorov, and Sidorov could be doing _anything_ to them – and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

It took every bit of strength he had ever possessed not to kill Janvier and hunt down Sidorov and get his team back.

But that wasn't his job.

And bless or damn Hetty forever, she had very much taught him how to do this.

"Control your emotions" was something she had drilled into him from the instant he had begun his study of tradecraft. Hetty had once told him that the finest agents were not those with no emotions at all – they were the agents with the deepest emotions and the finest ability to use them as the situation demanded.

Which sometimes meant _not_ using them.

If Callen let himself think for even an instant, he was _flooded_ with rage and dread and fear and guilt. Sam and Deeks were blown. They could be being beaten. Tortured.

They could be _dead_.

And it was because of him. Because of the game between himself and Janvier.

Sam and Deeks.

It was _suffocating_.

But he couldn't let it drown him. He couldn't.

The stakes for Sam and Deeks could not have been higher, but the stakes for the United States were higher still. There were two nuclear bombs in play, and they _could not_ be sold to Iran. They _could not_ be lost again. Or what happened to Sam and Deeks would be _absolutely nothing_ to what could happen to millions of civilians.

And Callen couldn't allow himself to fail. At any cost.

Even the cost of his team.

Hetty was still trusting him. "Control your emotions." She hadn't told him to stop. She hadn't told him to stand down. She hadn't even given him an order.

She reminded him who he was, and what his job required.

Even though Sam and Deeks were the only thing that mattered to _him_ , they couldn't be allowed to matter _at all_ against the mission.

G Callen wasn't a partner and friend and teammate, not now. He _must_ be Agent Callen.

And Agent Callen was responsible for safeguarding the country.

Even if it meant Sam and Deeks were already dead.

"Control your emotions" echoed in his ears again.

He took a deep breath and shut his eyes. When he opened them, he was controlled. He was Agent Callen. And he would protect the people and the country and he would stop Iran from getting the nukes and he would take down Sidorov and Janvier by any means necessary, no matter what it cost him.

Agent Callen would not fail.

But somewhere deep inside, G was still drowning.


	97. S5E1 Ascension

Season 5, Episode 1: Ascension

* * *

Hetty had been sitting in Callen's living-room chair for less than an hour when he returned home.

"I see why you like this spot," she said. "It gives a very nice view of the house."

He shook his head, shutting the door. "If I'd known you were going to wait that long, I would have come sooner."

"Your time with your team was important. And you knew I was here. You checked your security footage as soon as I entered."

"I thought you were just checking on me." He hung up his jacket in the hall closet and came to stand where he could face her. "You could have joined us."

"No." She shook her head. "Your team needed a bit of privacy to reconnect after the events of today." Hetty peered up at him. "How are they – really?"

"Well, Sam is being...very Sam," he said. "When I dropped him off, he was trying to pretend like nothing happened and he wasn't nearly electrocuted to death."

"Michelle will not be fooled."

"Not for a second." Callen shook his head. "Besides, _somebody_ sent Sam's medical paperwork to her ahead of time, so she was waiting with his dose of drugs and a five-page description of after-incident care. Sam's not setting foot out of that house any time soon if Michelle has anything to say about it."

"I daresay she does."

"Still. Not exactly a welcome home party after the day they've had."

Hetty smiled. "You're just sorry you didn't think of it first."

"Little bit," he admitted. Then he heaved in a breath. "Kensi's fine, physically. Pretty shaken by Deeks, though. And Deeks…"

Hetty shut her eyes. "Yes. Mister Deeks is not doing well."

"He's trying to pretend it's just like normal, that it's no different from getting shot." Callen started to pace. "But it's all wrong."

"You let me worry about Mister Deeks," Hetty said. "I will be keeping a _very_ close eye on him."

"He's going to need help, Hetty. Nate or somebody, whoever can get him through it. He's showing all the signs." Callen sighed, running a hand over his head. Then he leaned against a wall. "I've seen worse...but not much worse in somebody who made it back into the field without serious complications."

"I know." She folded her hands in her lap, but Callen could see how tightly she was holding on to herself. "And while I have faith that eventually Mister Deeks will prove resilient enough to endure, that process will not be simple, nor straightforward. We must all be prepared to help him in whatever way we can."

"Then why are you here?" he asked her. "Why are you sitting with me instead of him? You probably know that he let Kensi take him home, but she didn't stay."

"I wasn't certain, but I assumed as much. However, I could ask you the same thing. Since you clearly followed them."

He let out a breath. "I don't...I don't know that I'm the right person to help him. So much of this was my fault, Hetty. How...how could he even look me in the eye, when it was my fault Janvier turned on Sam and put them in that position?"

"And that, Mister Callen, is why I am here." She fixed him with a steady gaze. "Your guilt is, unfortunately, not misplaced. Nor will I try to talk you out of it. But expect a call from Nate for yourself."

He huffed a laugh. "Figures."

"However, you must not allow your own pain to color how you handle Mister Deeks or Mister Hanna or even Miss Blye. _You_ did not rain this suffering down upon any of them. Janvier did that. Sidorov did that."

"Because of me!" G shoved away from the wall. "They got hurt because of me."

"But they do not blame you for it." Her answer was calm and unflappable. "They do not. And you must respect them enough to accept that gift for what it is."

Hetty rose from the chair and moved to face him.

"Mister Callen, your team still trusts you. Your team _loves_ you." She held up a hand and he caught it. "They all know you would have taken their place in an instant, would have endured anything for them if you could have."

His throat was tight. "Yes, I would."

"That same loyalty, that same devotion – they will need it, Mister Callen. They will look to you for strength, for certainty, for a direction to follow. You must be able to give them that. To stand steady and unmoving in the storms that surround them. You must be their anchor, their fixed point. So that, no matter what else they must navigate alone, they can always find you shining in the darkness to guide them back."

"What if I can't?"

"You can, Mister Callen." She squeezed his hand. "Be your constant self, and be the leader I know you are. Trust in your people and cover their backs. Do what you always do."

He drew in a shaky breath. "What if it isn't enough?"

"Then you will still have me to turn to." And she gave him a gentle smile. "If your own anchor gives way, mine shall not."

That made him smile a little, too. "You've always been my fixed point. You've never let me down."

"And you have never let me down, Mister Callen. And you certainly never shall. Not for yourself, and not for your team."

He sighed. "I hope you're right about that, Hetty."

"Of course I am, dear boy. Of course I am. Now." She let his hand go and started to walk into the kitchen. "We are going to have a cup of tea and we are going to make some very specific plans for Mister Janvier. Assuming he survives tonight's surgery, I want to make absolutely certain he never crawls out of wherever we decide to put him."

"Are you sorry I didn't kill him?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"Oh, no." Hetty turned on the threshold of the kitchen and her eyes were cold. "No, living out the rest of his life in prison suits him very well. However."

He raised an eyebrow.

"If we ever see him again, Mister Callen? You won't be obliged to shoot him. I will do it myself." Her glare went nuclear all on its own. " _No one_ hurts my agents. _No one_."


	98. S5E2 Impact

Sorry for another delay. Stuff continues. But I'm okay and hanging in there. Here are some more chapters for you.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 5, Episode 2: Impact

* * *

Callen got all the way home before he decided that he couldn't just leave it without saying something. He pulled out his phone to text Hetty. "You did notice that Eric's pants were cut, right?"

Hetty responded quickly. "Of course."

He decided he needed to ask, just to be sure. "Are you going to kill him?"

"It wasn't something I was planning, no. But be forewarned that I intend to exact revenge for the damage to my trousers over the next few days."

Callen laughed. "You're going to scare the crap out of him, aren't you?"

"Something like that."

"Can I watch?"

"I'll record it for you."

G couldn't wait to see what she had planned for Eric. He knew that Hetty deliberately went through cycles of building up his confidence and then reducing him to a quivering pile of helpless pudding – he wasn't quite sure _why_ , but he knew she did it intentionally. The pudding cycles were always hilarious.

And given that he had desecrated a piece of clothing she had given him, the punishment would be severe.

Another text arrived.

"Nate spoke to Mister Deeks."

Callen's attention instantly shifted. "How is he?"

"Not as bad as we had feared, not as well as any of us would like."

He let out a breath. "What can I do?"

He knew the answer already, of course, and wasn't surprised when it arrived.

"Your job, Mister Callen."

Right. That. He shook his head. "Tell me if I need to do something."

"I shall. In the meantime, leave Mister Beale to me."

G sighed. Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day.


	99. S5E3 Omni

Season 5, Episode 3: Omni

* * *

In the week after the Omni case, Hetty came to two conclusions.

First, she needed better security on her garages.

Second, G Callen had far too much free time on his hands in the late evenings.

She let him think he was getting away with it for two nights, but decided to confront him on the third. Which was why she ended up standing in a darkened garage when the door went up and her Aston Martin rolled in with the lights off.

Hetty could see the momentary pause in the car, as if the driver had considered throwing it into reverse and screaming back out the way it had come. She raised an eyebrow and glared harder.

The car came to a complete stop in its designated place and the engine turned off.

"Uh, Hetty." Callen exited the car looking very like a teenager caught out after curfew. "What are you doing out here?"

"I might ask you the same thing, Mister Callen," she said, arms crossed.

Callen approached her cautiously, one side tilted towards her the way he did when he was particularly on his guard and wary – that, at least, was reasonable. "I'm kinda having flashbacks to when I used to sneak out here. Am I...missing something?"

"Oh, don't you turn that around on me. Especially given that, until ten seconds ago, _I_ was missing something rather significant." And she eyed the car.

"I don't know how significant one car can be given that you have about ten of the things."

"Eleven, actually. Now, what, precisely have you been doing with my cars?"

"Hetty…" He sighed. "It's really not a big deal."

"Then it is not a big deal to tell me about it," she said.

"Fine." His hands dropped and his body posture relaxed as it usually did when he was finally coming clean after such avoidance. He really was very predictable when he was being himself and not someone undercover. "I was just testing them. Okay?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Testing them for _what_ , exactly?"

"You told us that the Shelby Cobra had been modified," he said. "That Sam wouldn't fit in it and I wouldn't, either. Which, by the way, Kensi is the _exact_ same height I am, taller in heels, and _she_ fit just fine."

"Not the point, Mister Callen."

"Anyway. I realized that you might have some cars which you modified to the point that somebody my size or Kensi's actually couldn't drive them. And I thought I should know which ones."

She frowned. "For what possible reason could you need to know that?"

"I don't know. Maybe somebody goes after you at home someday and I've got to get you out in a hurry." He shrugged. "Anything could happen. I just needed to make sure I could drive any of your cars if I really had to."

She took a step closer to him. "So...this was all for my protection? Not just you taking it into your head to joyride in my cars?"

"Hetty." He gave a charming smile. "Would I really do that?"

"Without question, Mister Callen." She sighed. "Very well. I will accept your ridiculous answer, since I do believe you mean it." She held up a hand before he could speak. "But, no more sneaking in and upsetting my security. If you want to test my cars for suitability for whatever extremely unlikely scenario is keeping you up nights, you will do it in daylight hours."

"Fair enough. Thanks, Hetty."

She nodded and turned to go. "Oh." She paused and glanced back over her shoulder. "And you will wash and wax each car by hand when you are finished with them."

"Hetty!"

" _And_ , as you have already taken out six of the eleven, I expect you to wash those six before you take any more. I shall expect you tomorrow afternoon. Be sure to bring _proper_ rags and sponges." She resumed leaving. "Good night, Mister Callen."

From behind her, he grumbled, "Good night, Mister Miyagi."

"I heard that!" she called back.


	100. S5E4 Reznikov, N

This one is a big episode. Seeing Callen actually crying at the end as he watches the film of his family, knowing his father's name for the first time – it's just a lot. And very hard to capture.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 5, Episode 4: Reznikov, N

* * *

As G reached his car, he realized he didn't have a projector that could play the reel Hetty had handed him. There was one at the office, though, part of Hetty's collection of technology from before Eric's time.

He unlocked his car to find the projector sitting in the front seat.

"Hetty," he breathed.

Suddenly curious, he put a hand on the case. He could still feel a glow of warmth coming from the machine inside.

Hetty had already watched the reel, and was giving him the privacy to do so for himself.

He had too many feelings to be upset about her previewing whatever had been recorded. And, if he was honest, he was grateful that she had screened it first. It meant there was nothing on the reel which was dangerous, nothing which was going to lead more trouble to his door. Whatever it contained, it was personal and uncomplicated.

Sliding into the driver's seat, he considered calling her. He wasn't even sure what he would say, but it seemed like the thing to do. To thank her for her foresight, maybe, or to ask her to come watch it with him.

But as soon as he had that thought, he banished it.

This was his life, his journey, and the one piece of the puzzle even Hetty couldn't help him solve. He wanted to face it alone.

And, of course, she had known that – which was why she left him the projector that way without saying a word about it.

G was aware that his life could be broken into five pieces. The current piece was his work at NCIS, his team, the dangers they faced and the mysteries they unraveled. The piece before that had been his time as an agent for every other agency – before Kensi and Eric, before Sam, before he was part of a team and family and back when he was just an agent. The two parts of his life prior to those were bound inextricably to Hetty – his time in her care after the foster system, and the time in the foster system.

But the fifth part of his life, or, more accurately, the first, was where he truly began – the time before with his mother. Hetty was his link to his mom, and that link carried him from her death all the way until he left Hetty's house and entered the next phase of life. And while Hetty could give him his mother, she could not give him his father.

It was the last gaping hole in the story. The last rift in his soul.

And today he had one tiny piece to add to it. He had his father's name.

Callen's hands shook on the wheel all the way home.

Before he set up the projector, though, he did send Hetty one text.

"Breakfast?" He didn't add the 'please' to the end of it, because she would understand it all too well.

She responded at once. "I'll be waiting."

Hetty was the safety net that had carried him, even when he didn't know it, for almost all of his life. Tonight, he was going to dive into that hole at the far beginning...and perhaps learn more than just the name of the man who was his father.

But tomorrow he would have to return to the life he had now, and to do that, he needed that safety net to carry him just a little bit this time.

Afterwards. After a reel that might change everything.

He couldn't know what it might do, what it might bring back, what it might make him think or feel – but it wouldn't change one thing.

His team would be there in the office in the morning. Hetty would be waiting for him for breakfast. They would be family and they would be together no matter what tonight brought.

With that certainty, G allowed himself to drop all defenses and dive into the past.


	101. S5E5 Unwritten Rule

This episode, if you need the reminder, is one where Nell ended up undercover in an office building and they ultimately discovered that the bad guy was there in the office with her. It involved a chase through the hallway and Callen and the team ultimately catching the guy after a shootout in the garage. But, in the meantime, Nell was disabled by a very nasty hit from the guy. Callen was NOT pleased.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 5, Episode 5: Unwritten Rule

* * *

Partway through the debriefing in the back room of whatever spot Kensi had picked, the bruising on Nell's face started to show. Callen had checked her for a concussion at the scene when Eric told him how she'd been hit with a bag which turned out to have a corporate ledger and a laptop in it, but she had been fine. Now, however, a rich dark red was starting to welt on her skin.

"Gonna be a real shiner," Sam told her with approval.

Deeks had immediately launched into the most ridiculous how-I-got-that-one-bruise story he could, and Kensi had rolled her eyes with Nell at Eric's fumbling attempts to help. She had to actually intervene to keep him from continuously trying to offer her his napkin soaked in water, pointing out that she had a bruise, not a stray bit of ketchup.

Callen offered to go get some ice from the waiter, Nell shooting him a grateful look as Eric launched into his own ridiculous-bruise story, one which was probably stealing elements from at least one video game fight.

The waiter was busy, so G simply slipped into the kitchen himself to get a baggie and some ice from the freezer, moving confidently such that no one bothered him. He was on his way back when he ran into Hetty just outside their private room.

He gave her a questioning look. "You're not gonna try and make Nell put meat on her face, are you? Some kinda old-school trick? Because she will not go for it."

"Of course not." Hetty frowned at him. "That's an old wives' tale from when steak was less expensive to waste than ice."

It was one of those weirdly specific things Hetty just seemed to know, and he still, even after all this time, was surprised by it.

"O...kay. So what's up?"

"How is Mister Deeks? Really?"

"Honestly?" Callen let out a breath. "I'm not sure even he knows. But he's trying. And he asked us to trust him. I think...at this point it would be worse to doubt him."

"Hmm." She nodded. "I think you may be correct. Mister Deeks needs to know that our faith in him is solid so he can continue to expand his faith in himself. As long as that faith is not misplaced."

"I don't think he's really being intentionally reckless. I mean, I hope not." G grimaced. "In our line of work, it's not always easy to tell."

"Well. Keep a close eye on him as you can," she said. "At this point, I agree with your assessment. But I, too, shall be watching for signs of danger. If there is a risk to him, we must catch it before it can provide an opening at an inopportune moment."

"We'll have his back," Callen said, sure and certain. Because no matter what happened, Deeks was one of them, and they would see him through whatever came to pass. "And Kensi's taking care of him, too. As much as she lets herself, and as much as he lets her, I guess."

"They do have an interesting sense of...equilibrium, don't they?" But Hetty smiled a bit.

"You don't mind?"

"Happiness comes too seldom for people like us, Mister Callen," she said, meeting his eyes. "I would have to have a damn good reason to take it away from someone."

He smiled back. "I'm glad. They deserve it. If they ever figure it out."

"Well, even the deepest snow melts given enough time and warmth."

"Speaking of melting." Callen looked down at the baggie of ice which was dripping rapidly. "I think I better get a new batch or this won't be much more help than Eric's napkin."

Hetty chuckled. "Well, the last thing Miss Jones needs is more ineffective fussing, so I shall leave you to your Arctic expedition and will meet you at the resupply station."

Callen grinned all the way back to the kitchen.


	102. S5E6 Big Brother

Heh. Hey all.

So, I'm trying to come back per normal. I'm not up to replying to comments just yet, but I'm going to try to get back in the habit of posting every week. I'm sorry it took me so long to get here.

And thank you, all of you, for your kindness and understanding.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 5, Episode 6: Big Brother

* * *

Callen stepped into one of the quieter corners of the boatshed when his phone rang. "Hetty?"

"How was school today, Mister Callen?"

In spite of the seriousness of it all, he snorted. "How long have you been waiting to ask me that?"

"Since you opted to take over the undercover assignment for Miss Blye," she answered frankly. "Which, by the way, was a commendable decision."

"Why?"

"Regardless of the circumstances, one of your team was uncomfortable with their assignment. As team leader, it is always your responsibility to shoulder any burden for your teammates when they cannot do so themselves. Be it paperwork, a dangerous mission, or a difficult decision."

"Or, apparently, high school." He paused. "Is high school really that much worse for girls?"

"Oh, Mister Callen." Hetty's voice was chiding. "Believe me, for some of us, a prison sentence with hard labor attached would have been preferable."

"Okay. Good to know." He filed that one away for further consideration. "Was there anything you wanted to tell me about the case?"

"Not particularly. But as I don't yet want to take a call from SecNav, it would be useful to remain on the phone with you for a few more minutes."

He laughed. "I'll be your cover any time, Hetty."

"I am aware of that, Mister Callen. Now, I know you were only a substitute teacher for a matter of minutes before you were forced to break cover, but did you learn anything interesting?"

"Yeah, that the history class those kids are in doesn't really live up to the name." He frowned. "It was less nuanced factual information and more 'this is kinda how it went from a certain point of view if you don't address small complications like socio-political realities or class dynamics.' Honestly, how are kids today supposed to know anything if nobody teaches them what really went on?"

"I think you have an unfair advantage, Mister Callen." He could hear the smile in her voice. "Your own education was piecemeal at best until you encountered a certain dedicated tutor who was willing to stir up every possible angle on any historical event until you saw a much broader framework of context than the average student."

"Yeah, well, remind me sometime to thank _my tutor_ , because I could have written a better chapter than that book had off the top of my head."

"I'm sure anyone who was invested in your education would be glad to hear it."

"It was that same tutor who taught me about the three C's – communication, context, and control. And how language isn't the only form of communication, you can't communicate effectively without context, and even perfect communication and a good sense of context won't help you if you can't control yourself and the flow of information." He glanced back towards the interrogation room. "I think a lot of kids out there would have benefitted from a lesson like that."

"Unfortunately, Mister Callen, that tutor is long retired from the teaching profession. However, I find that lessons of that particular type tend to make themselves known to us one way or another, if a little later in life."

He huffed a laugh. "I think you're half-right, Hetty."

"Oh? Which half?"

"You're right that people are going to learn about the nuances of context one way or another, even if the lesson is painful. But when it comes to that particular tutor?"

"Yes?"

"I haven't stopped learning from her yet."


	103. S5E7 The Livelong Day

Season 5, Episode 7: The Livelong Day

* * *

"I didn't know you liked trains."

Hetty gave him a smile as Deeks watched his train go around the little track while Kensi and Sam aggressively ignored the distraction. Callen was just glad Deeks had the sense to run it between their desks and not around them like a fragile fence – he was _not_ crawling on the floor to get a cup of coffee.

"There's still a great deal about me you don't know. Trains were always more of a boy's hobby when I was growing up, so perhaps it was the cultural taboo that first got my attention. However," and she made a sideways glance, "I believe we both understand the appeal."

"Sure." He nodded. "Freedom, travel, touching a piece of history. Something in the serenity of taking a journey without traffic."

"Precisely. Though modern trains are far less aesthetically pleasing than the classics."

"Well, sometimes the loveliest things are the classics," he replied.

Hetty's smile went fond and teasing. "I know you're not talking about me, Mister Callen."

"Can't a guy just voice an opinion?" he returned, smirking.

"A guy? Perhaps. You, not so much." She swatted at his arm.

"Hey!" Sam turned around in his seat. "You still working, or are you two going to start braiding each other's hair and talking about boys?"

"I would pay money," Deeks popped up, "to watch Callen braid Hetty's hair."

"And I would pay money to watch Hetty braid yours," Kensi shot back at him.

Callen laughed and returned to his seat while the rest of his team fell into familiar banter. But by the time they finished the reports and convinced Deeks to take down his train set – which he already was very vocal about putting up in his place as soon as he got home, and never mind that it was nearing 2am – he was becoming more thoughtful.

Hetty had been so delighted by that train.

And it _had_ been a long time since he'd done anything nice for her.

It took him two weeks to acquire all the pieces he needed, and to correctly pick a night when she was at one of the other houses. Dovecote had the most impressive foyer, after all.

Two days later, Hetty came into the office with a spring in her step and a smile hovering around the corners of her expression that even Eric could see. It was Nell who asked her about it up in Ops before the day's briefing.

"So...you're in a good mood today. Something up, Hetty?"

Hetty's smile was almost girlish, and she made a visible effort to tone it down.

"I spent a lovely evening...recapturing an old feeling."

G looked away from Sam's too-insightful gaze and hoped his ears weren't turning red – they had, when he had been a kid and was suddenly embarrassed that way. Deeks started to make some kind of deeply inappropriate comment which was swiftly ended by Kensi's smack to the upside of his head, and they moved onto the topic at hand.

But later, G spotted Hetty sitting at her desk smiling at her laptop. When she stepped out to go speak to Eric and Nell, he sneaked a peek.

Her laptop's desktop picture had been reset from the usual nature scenes she used. Now it showed a downwards picture taken from midway up a spiral staircase. Filling up the round floor below, lit by a dozen lights and lamps, was an enormous model train setup. The track curved in and out and around, and a few toys and Legos and strategically-placed dollhouses gave the whole thing an air of a proper train table. Sitting in the middle of the circle was a stool with a conductor's hat on it.

Callen grinned. He could just imagine her sitting on the stool, playing with the trains as if she were a kid again. It was one of the earliest things he had learned about her – in many ways, Hetty's inner child had never grown up at all. It was something they shared, actually, to the chagrin of pretty much everybody else.

But Hetty was happy with her present, and that was all that mattered.

For a full month, he could always tell when Hetty was staying at Dovecote and had been playing with her trains. Those were the days she always, always smiled.


	104. S5E8 Fallout

So, this is the episode that ends with the team going off-book and using the ruse of a fake earthquake and a gas leak to sneak into a mansion owned by the Russian consulate (or something) to steal back some sensitive information that the Russians had already stolen. Owen is on the warpath, and Hetty is probably going to go down for dereliction of duty, if not treason. But – not with her team backing her up.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 5, Episode 8: Fallout

* * *

They returned to the office late, after most everyone was gone. Just outside the door, Callen turned to his team and stopped them.

"Let me talk to her," he said. "If it's going south, I'll try not to drag you all with me."

"G, we're part of this," Sam said. "You ain't going down alone."

Callen looked across the five faces before him, this team which was everything he ever could have wanted.

"No, but if I can soften the blow, I will. Deal?"

And Sam understood what he couldn't quite say and nodded, ushering them all inside and steering Kensi, Deeks, Eric, and Nell over to the bullpen, leaving Callen alone to walk up the steps to Hetty's office.

She was sitting in her chair, waiting.

"You shouldn't have gone," was the first thing she said. "Or do you no longer care for the laws regarding sovereign territory belonging to other nations?"

Callen sat down in the chair opposite her and placed the two hard-drives on her desk. "Not like they care about ours. And if we hadn't..."

"If you hadn't, I would certainly be finished here. Now, I may yet be finished, but you've thrown your team in with me." She frowned. "It was foolish, Mister Callen."

"Okay, first of all? We all thought it was worth it. Every one of us." He glanced across to his team talking quietly. "I'd have gone alone, but they were all in it with me. Without hesitation." He met her eyes and held them. "They were all willing to do this for you, Hetty."

She glanced away.

"And secondly, no matter how illegal it was, you can't try to tell me it wasn't necessary for us to get this back before the Russians could make use of it." He tapped the drives. "Better somebody goes to jail than this data end up on the other side of the game."

"That's not why you did it, though. And we both know it." She sighed. "Someday, Mister Callen, you are going to have to stop protecting me."

"Not a chance."

"How many close calls are we going to have until you sacrifice your career?"

G leaned forward. "As many as it takes, Hetty, and that's a promise." He shook his head. "I'd give up my career today if I had to, or tomorrow, or the next day. But I'm not letting you hang out to dry. Not when there's something I can do about it."

"This impulse of yours must be infectious," she said. "Now they all worry when I step out of the office. And they all participated in your little stunt."

"Hetty." He waited until she was really looking at him. "You'd do the same for any of us. Hell, you've done worse for us."

She acknowledged that much by inclining her head slightly.

"You once told me," he said, extremely cognizant of the context for what he was about to say, "that leadership is finding in your team the certainty to go on even when you don't have it for yourself."

Her eyes widened – it was the last thing she had said to him before she went to Prague.

"But you were also telling me that I had to look at my team and trust them. Not just lead them, but let them support me as well." He lowered his voice. "Hetty, look at all of us, and let us support you this time."

"It is not in my nature to…"

"I know," he interrupted. "And we all know that you would do anything to keep from having to ask for help. We all know that."

"It's not your job to help me," she said firmly. "It is my job to help and support all of you."

"Well." And he leaned back again, smirking, "But you also lead by example, so…"

She let out a breath, and without a word, conceded. "There may be hell to pay with this."

"We've paid worse," he said, really starting to smile.

"The Russian's won't forgive us for this."

"The Russians stole our data in the first place," Callen reminded her. "They're not going to cause too much trouble."

"Owen will be back soon, and he will _not_ be pleased."

G grinned. "So, double win for us, then?"

And Hetty laughed in spite of herself. "Sometimes I truly don't know what I'm going to do with the lot of you."

Callen started to stand, reaching for the drives. "You'll think of something."

But Hetty put a hand down on the drives, pinning them in place. "Sometimes I don't know what I would do _without_ the lot of you," she said very softly.

Callen nodded, his chest warm. "Good thing you're never going to have to find out."


	105. S5E9 Recovery

This is the episode that starts with infiltrating a rehab center and ends with Kensi and Deeks spending a night together – finally.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 5, Episode 9: Recovery

* * *

"So, what do you think?"

Hetty sighed at the inbound message. It was a wonder she ever got any reading done now that smartphones and texting had been invented.

She sent back, "No."

Callen's response was immediate. "You don't even know what I'm asking about."

"Yes, I do. You getting either tattoos or piercings. No."

"It's not like you could really stop me."

Hetty wished that ridiculous boy were here in person so she could give him the glare he deserved. He was probably cackling madly to himself, knowing he was baiting her and she couldn't frown him into submission.

She typed slowly, if for no other reason than to make him sweat.

"I absolutely can and you well know it. You may be a grown man, but I retain some rights and this is one of them. Besides, while the rest of your team may not see their undercover work suffer for such identifying marks, you are a different case entirely."

His response, when it came, was not what she had been expecting.

"It's not like I get naked on every case. Speaking of naked, how come you sent Deeks in as a sex addict?"

Oh, that brilliant boy. Using something innocuous to get her to let her guard down and provide an opening to ask the question he really wanted answered. He'd played her.

It was worthy of a proper response.

"There was no time to set up the physical manifestations of another addiction – he would have been found to be a fraud by the experts. But I also wanted him to think."

"I think he's moved on from just thinking. I think they both have."

Ah, of course. Hetty let out a breath and nodded. "Good. It's about time, I believe."

There was a pause before he replied again.

"Is this really going to be okay?"

She smiled as she composed a reply.

"When we take risks, we can never know how they will turn out. But, in this case, I believe that not taking the risk would be ultimately a greater danger to the both of them as individuals, partners, and members of our team. It may not end how we would like, but at least we will be able to move forward."

"Assuming they can handle it."

She nodded, though he obviously couldn't see it. "Indeed."

"You're a closet romantic."

She laughed and typed back, "As are you, I believe."

"Enjoy your book, Hetty. Good night."

"Good night, Mister Callen."


	106. S5E10 The Frozen Lake

Well, here we go with Kensi's plot in Afghanistan…

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 5, Episode 10: The Frozen Lake

* * *

"I don't move pieces, Mister Callen. I move the board. Good night."

G drew in a breath that felt like it should freeze in his chest.

So much was wrong right now. Kensi and Deeks seemed to have regained their equilibrium, maybe, but the case could have gone sideways at every step in the meantime. Hetty had even asked him to be sure his team was ready, and he hadn't been certain. He'd gone into the field with them, but he hadn't been sure of them.

And that was not counting Kensi hitting Deeks across the face, which had gotten lost in the mess but he couldn't not know about it, and, technically, he couldn't just let it pass without comment. If there hadn't been so much else going on, so much else going wrong, that would have been something else to resolve.

If Kensi weren't being reassigned, it would have been a problem for tomorrow. But now…

Hetty had dismissed them, had turned away, and Callen knew not to question her. Not this time.

She'd told him herself.

"I move the board."

It wasn't just a statement regarding her general philosophy. It wasn't even an exaggeration.

Hetty was not losing Kensi, was not sacrificing a piece, was not handing a player over to another hand to be used. Hetty was changing the board, but not the game.

But she didn't mean the usual game of them versus criminals, the game of cartels and undercover and assignments done by the weekend. This was _the game_. The _long_ game.

Whatever was happening, this was _big_. This was _real_.

And yet, it wasn't personal, at least for Hetty. The game was never personal when Hetty played it. Romania and the Comescus had not been a game; Callen knew she didn't think of it that way. Working with Nate, on the other hand, putting him in the position where he could do the most good and become what he needed to be, _that_ was a game.

Whatever this was, whatever mission required Kensi, it was necessary, and Hetty was in control.

But still. He didn't have a good feeling about it.

G trusted Hetty completely, trusted that she knew what she was doing, trusted that she had good reason for sending Kensi away to someplace unknown, trusted that this was needed.

G could trust Hetty, but he didn't trust anything else. He didn't trust the world to be safe. And now Kensi, one of his team, one of his family, was going out into it without him to stand on overwatch. Without Deeks to have her back.

Kensi was one of the strongest people Callen knew, but the world could break diamonds.

But Hetty wasn't moving pieces – she was moving the board.

For now, that would have to be enough for him.

However, if this game took a turn in the wrong direction, there was nothing that would stop Callen from leading his team to get their piece back where it belonged.

Back where Kensi belonged. Back where they would be waiting for her.

No matter what.


	107. S5E11 Iron Curtain Rising

As a reminder, to solve the case (bad guy suspected of war crimes), Callen, Sam, and Deeks go against SecNav orders to arrest the guy because he has a lot of CIA intel he could use against them. But he is a BAD DUDE, so they risk it anyway. It works out, but Hetty is absolutely not amused.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 5, Episode 11: Iron Curtain Rising

* * *

As ordered, Callen stayed away from the office the next day. Other than a quick text to Sam, he didn't even reach out to his team or check his phone at all.

He couldn't really disagree with the punishment. He'd gone against direct orders. And especially now, when everything felt odd and off-balance, he needed to be steady. And that meant playing by Hetty's rules.

Not to be confused with playing by any _actual_ rules, of course.

It was the first case with Kensi gone, though, and it hurt. It hurt for Deeks to be following them around like a lost puppy, and it hurt to think about how to get him into the field again without his real partner at his side. And Callen had caught Hetty glancing at Kensi's empty chair more than once over the course of the whole mess.

Deeks wasn't the only one who missed her, even if he missed her in a very different way.

Callen wasn't sorry for disobeying Hetty, at least in the sense that he wasn't sorry for what he'd done. But he was sorry for putting her in the position of having to go against him, having to be another source of struggle for a team already struggling. In the end, they had done the right thing, but he'd done it wrongly.

And now more than ever, he needed to do things right.

There was a tripwire somewhere that they could all feel, a source of tension and danger just out of sight. All they could do was work slowly and carefully until they could disarm it and put things back to how they should be – or it would blow up in their faces.

Callen was the team leader. It was his job to be stable when the world wasn't. Hetty had told him so herself, and she was right.

But he'd forgotten.

So he took his unpaid day without complaint, and spent it thinking.

In the morning, he made sure to arrive at the office early, early enough that only Hetty was there. He didn't go straight to her office, instead first making a stop to get himself a mug of tea.

She raised an eyebrow as he carried his tea with him. "Not much of an offering if you didn't bring some for me."

"You have your own tea," he pointed out. "Besides, it's not a peace offering."

"Oh?"

"It's…" He shrugged. "A good way to start the day."

She raised an eyebrow.

G cleared his throat. "Somebody...once told me that I needed to be calm, that I needed to be the leader my team could count on. And I...I didn't really do that the other day."

"No," she said. "You did not."

He nodded. "I'm not sorry for doing what I did. Those guys needed to go down."

She tipped her head. "I think they would both have been improved by a bullet to the knee, personally."

"Right." He drew in a breath and let the warm steam from the tea into his chest. "But I should have done it differently. I should have…"

"You should have come to me, Mister Callen," she said.

"Would you really have changed your mind and given us permission anyway?"

"I guess you'll never know, will you?"

Okay, he deserved that. He nodded. "Things are just...strange. And it isn't only because Kensi's not here. Deeks is off, and it's like there's a cold going around. Everybody's got a bit of it now."

"Indeed." Hetty took a sip from her own teacup. "And that, Mister Callen, is when we must be the best of ourselves. We must because it is our job. And it is our job because we _can_."

"I'm going to do better," he said. "I can't...I can't do this any other way than the way I do it, can't be anyone I'm not. But...I can do better."

"Yes, you can." She gave him a small smile. "And I know you will."

He smiled. "Thanks."

"For?"

"Still trusting me. Even after I disobeyed orders."

"Oh, Mister Callen. I will always trust you to do what you believe you must. Nothing will ever change that."

He met her eyes. "Is that...enough?"

She nodded, her eyes warm and fond. "More than enough, my boy."


	108. S5E12 Merry Evasion

Sorry about the delay!

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 5, Episode 12: Merry Evasion

* * *

"You can stop lurking now, Mister Callen."

He stepped out from around a pillar, smiling. "That was good."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, moving back towards her desk.

"Of course not." He fell in beside her. "So, she's okay?"

"She has a very difficult and dangerous task, but I am fully confident in her. And she's not alone out there, either." Hetty gave him a sideways look. "Besides the threat of trouble, I think she is mainly concerned with what, or, rather, _who_ she had to leave behind."

Callen didn't turn to where Deeks was sitting in his chair and radiating shock and desperation and elation in equal measure. He hoped the guy would remember how to talk like himself before the battery on the sat phone ran out.

"So, you're not worried about that being a distraction for either of them?"

"No." She shook her head. "If anything, I think it will decrease their level of distraction. They will be able to focus on their jobs now, knowing they can still reach one another if necessary."

"And when Kensi comes back?"

Hetty smiled. "If I was worried, I wouldn't have let it get this far, and you know it."

"True enough." G leaned on the pillar at the edge of Hetty's office while she perched in one of the chairs he normally used. "So, usual Christmas plans?"

"I may have some travel in the next few days," she said. "There are...some people I would very much like to see."

Callen nodded, understanding. Now that he had some idea about how many children like himself she had raised and guarded and taught and supported, even if he did feel a twinge of jealousy to share her attention, he could hardly ask her not to spend the holidays with the others.

"But I already have my invitation from Michelle, including a rather intimidatingly-worded threat should I fail to appear for Christmas brunch." She smiled at him. "That threat will be extended to you if you are foolish enough to think you aren't spending the day with Sam's family."

"Oh, I know I am." He held up his hands. "The day I miss Christmas at the Hanna house is the day I have to find a new partner."

"One should spend the holidays with one's family," she said.

"Yeah."

Hetty looked up at him, frowning. "Mister Callen, are you…?"

"No." He shook his head. "Whatever you're thinking, no."

Her smile went knowing and amused. "Well, then, I suppose you wouldn't mind if I asked you to join me for supper tomorrow night."

G raised an eyebrow. "I thought you just said you would be traveling? Spending the holidays with family?"

"And so I shall." She actually winked. "With some clever arrangements, and a few private flights, I can see a great deal of my family in a very short amount of time." She rose and held out a hand.

Callen offered her his arm at once to lead her back to the party.

"Sounds like you're going to be pretty busy," he commented. "Jetting from here to who-knows-where and back in time for Christmas. And then out again, probably." He blinked. "Actually, you always travel a lot between Christmas and New Year's. Now I guess I know why."

"Indeed." She gave his arm a slight squeeze. "While the holidays are meant to be relaxing, mine tend to be rather hectic. And yet, it is all worth it."

He looked down at her and smiled. "I'm glad you can see so much of your family, Hetty. Even if you must have killer jet lag in the end."

"Jet lag is nothing after a life like mine," she said. "And it's not just my family, Mister Callen. Remember? Even if they don't know it, and even if you don't know them."

His chest went tight for a moment. "Our family? Like it's our team?"

"And sometimes," she said, looking over the party, at Deeks still on the phone with Kensi, at Sam and Eric drinking way too much of Nell's eggnog, at the familiar faces who made everything possible. "Sometimes, they are one and the same."


	109. S5E13 Allegiance

Season 5, Episode 13: Allegiance

* * *

After the impromptu naturalization ceremony in the Boat Shed, Deeks declared that the truly American thing to do was go get tacos, which is how Callen, Sam, Deeks, Ehsan, and Hetty wound up sitting on benches overlooking the ocean, while Sam and Deeks feuded about the ingredients in food truck tacos.

"Out of curiosity," G said, amazed that Hetty could eat the tacos as primly as if she were dining with royalty, "how did I become a US citizen? I wasn't born here."

"No, but your mother was a citizen," she said.

"Yeah, but, nobody knew she was my mom, either." He peered at her. "You?"

"Me." She set down the paper napkin which didn't have so much as a spot of spilled salsa on it. "Once we located you in LA, it was simple enough to ensure you had enough of a paper trail to confirm at least that much."

"Honestly, though, I'm not sure anybody would have guessed otherwise," he said after a moment. "When you've got a white, English-speaking orphan in the system, you don't typically wonder where they were born."

"Unfortunately, that's true. Still, I thought it prudent to arrange your citizenship beyond andy doubt in the event that you ever did follow your family's footsteps into our line of work."

He stared at her for a moment. "You were really planning that far ahead, all that time?"

"Of course."

"Talk about the long game." He sat back, shifting his gaze to the ocean. "What if I'd...remembered Romania? What if I clung to that part of my heritage and didn't...didn't want to protect and serve this country?"

"Well," she let out a breath, "then that would have been a problem for another day."

"But you weren't worried?"

"No."

"Not even a little?"

She frowned. "You have been many things in your life, Mister Callen, but you have never been a traitor. Even in the beginning, when your past was only a step behind you, you had the spirit of your grandfather."

He shook his head. "But I didn't know that. I didn't know any of it."

"You did, however," she met his eyes, "always walk a certain path of reckless independence, justice, endurance, and camaraderie. If our nation in its youth had an avatar, I imagine it would have looked very like you at a certain age."

He huffed a laugh. "So you thought I was, what? The all-American ideal?"

"Of a certain sort. As Mister Deeks is another, as Mister Hanna is another. And now as our new friend is another." She glanced at where they were now making a mess all over the other bench. "There is no one United States, Mister Callen. We are a people of many faces and many forms. And even when I first saw you as a child, I was certain you could find your place amongst them."

"Even though I'm half Russian?"

She smiled. "You could be half of any heritage in the world and still be yourself, Mister Callen."

He smiled back. "Well. Thanks for making me American. It would be really awkward if it turned out I was still a Russian citizen all this time."

"Awkward for us both," she agreed. "And the paperwork would be a _nightmare_."

"I'd have to take up drinking vodka." He smirked. "It _is_ part of my heritage, after all."

"Trust me, Mister Callen." She shook her head with a rueful expression. "Even vodka cannot improve filing those particular forms. Really, I was just saving us both the trouble."

"Well, thanks for that part, too."

Her smile was real and she nodded. "You're very welcome, as always."


	110. S5E14 War Cries

Hey all!

So, just as an FYI, I'm planning to post this week and next, but after that I'm going to take a break until January. There is so much stuff that has to get done in December, and something's gotta give.

In 2020, the plan is to post every week except one or two here and there until I get to the end of season 7. That's how much I have written, and I'm not sure how to proceed beyond that given how seasons 8+ go. But…who knows?

Lastly, this episode is the one that ends with Callen on the famous blind date with Joelle, demonstrating once again that Callen really is trapped between the indomitable force that is Sam and the unmovable power that is Hetty.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 5, Episode 14: War Cries

* * *

Hetty waited for the indignant text. She figured it would arrive either three minutes after Callen's arrival at the restaurant or two hours later.

When more than three hours passed, she was impressed.

The text, however late, was utterly predictable, of course. "You helped Sam set me up on a blind date!"

Well, obviously. "And apparently it went well."

The fact that the next text took almost two minutes was more telling than the "Yeah" it contained.

"Aren't you glad you wore the suit?" she sent back.

Another minute. "Yeah. Thanks."

She smiled. "I know your instinct is to close all possible open doors, but I suggest you consider making use of a doorstop this time."

"I don't have a doorstop. Who has an actual doorstop?" he sent back.

She knew what he expected — for her to leave him a doorstop in his house, or perhaps on his desk. It was an invitation to their usual exchanges, but that was far too easy. If she played the game the way he expected, it would give him reason to do the things he always did, to fold this opportunity into a corner where he could close it away and forget it.

She wasn't about to let him miss this chance when he had missed so many others. Even if it wasn't the chance of a lifetime, it was a chance for now.

"I suggest you make use of your ingenuity — and not your foot," she sent back. "Good night, Mister Callen."

She expected some sort of reprisal for that. She'd declined to play, and that was a move in itself.

She did _not_ expect him to leave a pair of old sneakers in the back of her car. Old sneakers that _smelled_.

Even so, it made her smile. After all, he'd also changed the game, and now he was playing a new hand.

He was taking a new chance. And that was all she'd wanted.

(Though she could have done without the smelly sneakers.)


	111. S5E15 Tuhon

Can I just say? I love the character of Tuhon. He is badass and complicated and wonderful.

Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

Season 5, Episode 15: Tuhon

* * *

Callen wondered if it should be weird to watch a man drop to his knees in homage while surrounded by dead Russians. Maybe if it were a different man. But Tuhon had always been a point of deadly stillness and calm amidst the carnage, so his obeisance just to the left of blood-spatter was oddly fitting.

As was the regal way Hetty accepted his respect.

Something in Callen's chest beat hard watching that proud, unstoppable man bend for Hetty. It was _right_ in a way few people who ever spoke to her were. As if Tuhon looked into Hetty's soul and saw exactly how much honor and respect she deserved. As if he could understand the formidable, endless strength to her which had only grown over time.

Of course, he himself was biased, and he knew it. But still.

It was about damn time somebody treated Hetty like the warrior queen she deserved to be.

Which didn't mean he wouldn't find ways to tease her later, or to cause trouble, or generally to make himself a nuisance just so he could keep them both laughing in the dark of the rest of their lives. That was one of his sacred duties, of course. If he let up his joking and pranking and mischief-making, they would both miss it, and days like this filled with uncertainty and bodies would take a heavier toll.

But G was glad to see Tuhon respond to that magnetic pull Hetty had on so many people.

Also, the fact that Tuhon regarded her so highly was the only reason Callen could ever relax with them in the same room. He'd seen Tuhon fight too often to ever feel completely safe with the man. Tuhon had been Hetty's sword for years, but a sword can still cut its wielder.

Tuhon was one of the few people in the world G Callen wasn't actually certain he could defeat in a fight, even an unfair fight. He was therefore the only person in the world about whom Callen felt that cold uncertainty _and_ whom Callen could stand to allow within a hundred yards of Hetty.

But Tuhon's honor, and his devotion, were strong. Hetty wasn't of Tuhon's tribe, but he would kill anyone who meant her harm without a second thought. Somehow, and Callen didn't know how but he very much suspected it could be traced to Hetty herself — Tuhon had always known that Callen was equally as protective.

He'd called G "the man without a tribe," but they had both known it wasn't quite true, even then, seven years before. Certainly Callen wouldn't have claimed a tribe; he wouldn't have claimed a living soul. Even now, he answered Tuhon's little fire riddle by saying he would walk out alone — because that illusion was the safest to preserve.

But even seven years prior, Callen had seen a tiny smirk on Tuhon's face, and knew that the headhunter could somehow read Hetty's claim on him as if it were written on his skin, an invisible tattoo of his own.

Seeing Tuhon now, though, untouched by blood and head bowed to Hetty, Callen knew exactly what those tattoos meant to the man, and what the invisible marks on himself meant to him.

Because Callen did have a tribe now. Not just Hetty, whom he would guard with his life and follow into Hell if she asked it of him. He also had Sam and Kensi and Deeks and Eric and Nell. (And _possibly_ Granger? It depended on the day and how annoying his politicking was.) He had a tribe he would protect and serve, not just because it was his job, but because it was his life.

When Tuhon stood and met Hetty's smile with his own, G found himself steadied all over again.

Tonight he wouldn't have to spend even one instant worrying that someone would get to Hetty if he wasn't there. Tonight Hetty could go and spend time with a man she regarded highly, a man she trusted deeply, a man who had been her shield before Callen.

And she could do that, because Callen would take the watch of their people in her stead. Even if for an hour or two, he could do that much.

When Hetty looked up and their eyes met, he knew she saw all of it in his face, even the parts he couldn't have given names or words if he'd tried.

 _Me, too, Hetty. All of that, everything he just did. What he is to you. Me, too, always._

 _I know, Mister Callen. I know._

 _Thank you for giving me a tribe of my own._

Her smile faltered and went just a touch softer.

 _Thank you for being a part of mine._


	112. S5E16 Fish Out Of Water

Sorry to be running a day late with this. The holiday season is nuts around my place (many family/friends/godkids for whom to buy presents) AND I managed to get a cold while shopping! Yay!

This will be the last set of chapters for 2019. I just know that I'm going to be even more busy and distracted for the remaining weeks of the year, so rather than torture myself about it, I'm just preemptively taking a posting break until January. Then, in theory, all should go back to normal with weekly updates until we finish with season 7 of this monster.

Also? This chapter is probably my favorite Gouda bit in the whole thing. The episode itself isn't particularly relevant – only that, at the end, Sam and Callen go out to get sushi together. The rest is just pure kitty fluff.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 5, Episode 16: Fish Out of Water

* * *

Later he would blame drinking too much sake at the restaurant. He would lay it all on the sake, and on matching Sam drink for drink, and generally on some combination of alcohol and food coma after the night of some of the best sushi he'd ever eaten in his life that dulled his reasoning and made him susceptible. Later, the excuses would come.

For now, it was half an hour to midnight, and he was calling Hetty.

"Mister Callen?" Her voice on the phone was taut like a string — collected, calm, but ready to snap into action in an instant.

He came out with it in a rush. "I have a cat problem."

He could practically hear her blink in surprise. "A...cat problem?"

"Yeah. It's…"

"You called me this late because of the cat you claim not to own?"

"I called Sam first but he hung up on me," he said. "If you hang up on me, I'm calling Nell."

"Oh, leave Miss Jones out of your strange little dramas." She sighed. "What sort of cat problem are we talking about, then?"

"He's…well, listen." Callen held the phone out.

Gouda, helpfully enough, yowled directly into it. And not a short, gentle yowl, either. A long, drawn-out wail of objection which ended on a high screech of fury.

He resettled the phone against his ear. "See?"

"Well, he certainly has good lungs," she said, and G knew she was smiling. "Is that the extent of the problem?"

"No, see…" He ran a hand over his face. "He's been doing it since I got home tonight. Just sitting there on the back porch, making that noise. Even when I was inside."

"Well, obviously he's trying to tell you something."

"Yeah, that he wants animal control called on him." Callen flinched as the cat repeated the noise. "I don't know what to do. He's never wanted to come inside before, and he's not acting like he does now."

"Oh?"

"I opened the door and gave him space, and he just stared at me and made the noise again."

"Could he be seeking your attention, perhaps?"

He coughed. "I don't...I mean...petting isn't really our thing."

"Mister Callen, you've had this cat for so long and you don't pet him?"

"We respect each other's personal boundaries."

"Oh for the love of Gucci." She was rolling her eyes, he just knew it. "Give it a try and see what he does."

Callen was out of other ideas, so he knelt down on the porch and extended a hand.

Gouda ran to it faster than a bullet and immediately started chewing on his fingers.

"Ow!" Callen pulled them back and stood up again. "He bit me!"

"Hmm. Then perhaps there is something else. Have you fed him recently?"

"Yep, and there's water in the bowl, too." He examined his hand in the porch light, but found the skin unbroken. "He's not acting hurt or sick. Just...ticked off."

"Well, that's an emotional state I believe we share," she returned. He knew she was amused, though.

"I'm getting there myself," he said. "If he doesn't quit making that noise, I don't know what to do. I don't want him to get...cat-arrested."

Hetty sighed again. "It is obvious that your cat has some sort of need he feels you particularly can fulfill. If he is fed, and if his situation is comfortable, and if he does not seek affection, then we must be more creative." She paused. Then, "Have you showered since eating out tonight?"

"No. Why?"

"And I assume that the odor of your dinner and its leftovers is strong?"

"Are you telling me you think my cat thinks I smell bad?"

"Not at all. But I believe your problem may be one which is common to pets, toddlers, and sometimes our own Mister Beale — the desire to partake in something one had no intention of sharing."

Callen would _also_ blame the sake for the amount of relief he felt at any possible solution, even if he wasn't quite sure what she was getting at. "What?"

"Your cat, Mister Callen, would like some of your sushi."

G stared at the cat, who let out another wail. Blinking and feeling almost numb, he turned to go back into the house. Balancing the phone on his shoulder, he grabbed his bag of leftovers and extracted a single piece of sashimi that had been intended for a later snack. Already soaked in soy sauce and wasabi, rice and all, he carried it back to the porch and set it down in front of the cat.

Gouda let out an _unholy_ sound of glee and ate it in three bites. And licked the porch to in order to get the last drops of soy sauce and a few scattered grains of rice.

"That is _not_ normal, Hetty. I'm pretty sure cats shouldn't eat wasabi," he found himself saying.

Her voice totally controlled and prim, she said, "If there were any cat on this planet, Mister Callen, who would be strange enough to eat wasabi, I am absolutely _certain_ it would be the same cat which would choose _your_ house out of every neighborhood in LA in which to make its home."

Gouda let out the wail again, pointedly looking between Callen and the spot where he had put the sashimi.

"I...guess so. But I don't have that many leftovers."

"Then I suggest you either order in or find a nearby grocery store with an acceptable selection at this time of night," Hetty said. "Either way, if you do not bring me a picture of your cat eating sushi in the morning, I will dock your pay for a month."

He knew she was absolutely not joking about that at all, and he kind of loved her for it.

"Well, looks like I'm going shopping. Good night, Hetty. And thanks."

"You're welcome, Mister Callen. Good night."

He hung up, completely certain that in one house or another in the area, Hetty was laughing herself sick.

He wasn't thrilled about the prospect of driving to a grocery store in the middle of the night for sushi for not-his cat, but it would be very much worth it if he got a good picture for her. And it would make a good story for Joelle, too.

He groaned. Now he was thinking about ways to impress Joelle. Damn.

Gouda yowled again.

"Fine," he said, pointing at it. "One problem at a time. I hope you like seaweed rolls and fake crab meat."

It turned out that as long as it contained something almost like real raw fish and had enough soy sauce and wasabi piled on, Gouda would even eat spring rolls stuffed with nothing but carrots and avocado.

Callen was officially sharing his backyard with the strangest cat on Earth.

But the pictures he sent Hetty were _hilarious_.


	113. S5E17 Between the Lines

The parts of this episode that stuck out to me aren't the plot, but the character interactions. More than any other episode since Kensi went to Afghanistan, this is the one where Deeks is clearly trying REALLY HARD not to be a third wheel, and also to prove that he belongs with the boys. It's trying, and adorable. And, yes, the following episode has rather a good amount of friendly ribbing of Deeks, with even Hetty getting in on the action – right before things in Afghanistan comes to a head, of course.

If you celebrate anything at the end of this year, I wish you a beautiful, peace-filled, and joyous occasion. If you celebrate nothing at all, I hope your December is lovely all the same, and that you are able to enjoy the time when everyone else is celebrating in your own way.

It's been a genuine pleasure for me to spend this year with all of you, sharing this story as it unfolds episode by episode. Thank you for all the laughter and joy and glee and squee you brought into my 2019, especially when I sorely needed it. I appreciate you all!

See you on the flip side of the decade. Enjoy!

* * *

Season 5, Episode 17: Between the Lines

* * *

She caught him right after the debriefing, while Deeks and Sam went to go clean their weapons.

"How is Mister Deeks handling things?" she asked.

Callen glanced to where his partner had gone with their temporarily-partnerless third wheel. "Actually, better than I thought. He doesn't think the same way Sam and I do, but he's right there with us."

"To be fair, there are very few people in the world who think like you and Mister Hanna," she said, smirking. "And I, for one, am glad of it."

He smiled. "When it was just me and Sam and Kensi, she was usually the quiet, competent one. Not flashy, not out to prove herself, just getting the job done. And making commentary, of course."

"Of course." Hetty nodded.

"But Deeks...well, he's not quiet. But he _is_ competent. And…"

"And?"

Callen shrugged. "I think he still thinks he has to prove himself to us. When we were out there today, he was...not exactly trying too hard. But making sure I knew that he had my back, and Sam's. That he was right there with us, one-hundred percent. As if we didn't know that already."

"You do rather treat him like a pair of older brothers teasing the baby of the family," Hetty said. "And without Kensi here to balance him, it is possible Mister Deeks feels that he must overachieve in loyalty what he lacks in your shared brainwaves."

G looked at her and dropped all pretense of mockery. "Do we need to let up on him? I don't want to be making things worse here."

"On the contrary," she said. "I think Mister Deeks holds onto that strain of insincerity and jovial jockeying as an anchor. If you were to remove that from him, he might be forced to face his feelings honestly."

"And what do you think his feelings are?"

"He misses Miss Blye, obviously. But I think he is also concerned about his place here. That, without her, he is somehow not needed. Not part of this team."

G's jaw went tight. "After everything, he still doesn't think he's one of us?"

"I think he's not completely sure. And doubly so with his partner absent. It would make any person uncomfortable, liable to see doubt in the slightest shadow and feel off-balance at the first tremor of the earth." Hetty let out a breath. "Keep on as you have been, Mister Callen. Perhaps I shall tease him myself, just to keep him on his toes."

"Which sounds like the opposite of comforting," he said, but he was smiling again.

"For most people, yes, I suspect it would be. But for him, as for you, I think our Mister Deeks will feel more at ease when he is at the center of a storm again. A storm of our making, of course."

She met his eyes and gave a dark smile of her own.

Callen felt reassured. If the games he played with Hetty made him feel centered and safe, he could see how playing a different sort of game with Deeks would reassure him as well.

And it would keep things loose and fun, which was good for all of them.

Especially because G knew personally that Hetty would play the game with everyone, not just Deeks, and that meant he would have to be on his own toes as well, being one of her favorite targets.

They could all take their turn in the spotlight of mockery if it kept them all grounded when the world felt shaky.


	114. S5E18 Zero Days

Welcome to 2020! I hope you enjoyed the end of 2019 and anything you might have celebrated. In my end of the world, we wrote down all the things from the year we were ready to let end with the year and burned them in a box at midnight. Very therapeutic.

So, this episode is the one that ends with the realization that Kensi is in trouble in Afghanistan after a series of jokes about Joelle in Callen's life. Thus was born this transitional oneshot.

Welcome back, and enjoy!

* * *

Season 5, Episode 18: Zero Days

* * *

It wasn't so much a card as a folded piece of computer paper tucked under her laptop. Hetty thought it must have been dropped off while she was getting an update on a secure line, but she hadn't seen anyone come or go, and that could only mean Callen.

She shook her head as she pulled out the folded sheet. On the front was a drawing of an angel drinking a cup of tea. The angel had helicopter blades for wings and rounded glasses. The tea set was a crude recreation of her own on the table beside her desk, though the angel's tea set seemed to be hovering in midair.

Hetty was almost afraid to open it, remembering the last time Callen had left her such a doodle. But she sighed and persevered.

On the inside was written a simple poem:

 _Roses are red  
_ _Violets are blue  
_ _Apparently I'm dating now  
_ _I pretty much blame you_

She frightened at least one person into running for the door by her bark of laughter.

At the bottom of the card was a post-script.

 _P.S. Thanks._

She shook her head, smiling. That boy was still ridiculous.

A text arrived shortly thereafter from Michelle Hanna, who sent a picture of a simple flower arrangement which had arrived anonymously. It was the sort of thing Michelle would rather not worry Sam about given the choice.

Hetty noticed that the flowers were white roses and violets and texted a response explaining that certain agents who were partnered with Michelle's husband had very unique ways of showing gratitude, and that Michelle didn't need to worry.

Michelle sent back a grinning smiley face emoji.

That problem solved, Hetty turned back to the matter of the card and its poem. She had some time before she would need to go upstairs and check in with Owen in Afghanistan, and she didn't want to let such a missive, heartfelt and silly as it was, go unanswered.

However, Hetty had actual blank greeting cards in her desk. And they had teacups on them, too.

She wrote a quick reply, then tucked it in his locker. It didn't matter if he didn't receive it for a few days if he was otherwise too occupied in the morning to come in for a workout. He'd find it eventually, and that would suffice.

 _If music be the food of love, play on.  
_ _Your poetry, however, impresses no one.  
_ _And your punctuation, or the lack thereof,  
_ _Says little to recommend your love.  
_ _And yet, your grasp of verse and rhyme  
_ _May serve you well another time.  
_ _Save your words for your Joelle rose -  
_ _Or perhaps try some better prose._

She couldn't have known what would happen to keep him from finding it for several days, of course. From the moment she began her conversation with Owen, everything else ceased to matter.


	115. S5E19 Spoils of War

And, finally, the conclusion of Kensi's arc in Afghanistan.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 5, Episode 19: Spoils of War

* * *

Hetty met them all when their plane landed, alone only because she had threatened Nell and Eric with their jobs if they didn't go home and get some sleep after the last few days. She also arranged for three additional drivers and vehicles, knowing perfectly well that her team would be beyond even their significant limits.

When the five of them met her on the tarmac, she let her gaze roam over them, assessing but also allowing her emotions to be visible to those who had been so very close to the edge.

"Owen," she said in a tone that had been known to cause lesser men to tremble, "go home." She pointed to where the drivers were waiting.

Owen Granger glared at her for an instant before he sighed and nodded. "Debrief in the morning."

"In the _afternoon_ , Owen," she corrected, and he didn't dare speak against her. She waited until he was actually in the nearest car and the driver was moving before she looked back at the others.

"Mister Hanna, your wife is waiting for you." But she stepped in front of him and held out a hand. "And thank you."

He shook her hand and gave her a tired smile. "Every time, Hetty. Every time."

She nodded.

She let Sam say his farewells to the other three before he, too, vanished into a waiting car.

"Now," she said, looking at her remaining agents. "The rest of you have a choice." And she pinned them with a glare before any one of them, even Callen himself, could interrupt. "Miss Blye, I know you are exhausted, but you _will_ be going to the hospital. That is _not_ up for negotiation. However, you may choose whom you wish to accompany you between Mister Deeks, Mister Callen, and myself."

Hetty's heart broke a little more at the uncertainty and overwhelming fragility in Kensi's eyes. She also noted how Kensi was holding onto Deeks's hand.

"I…" she began.

"I got this," Deeks said, and he even managed a nearly passable smile at the others. "I'll go with her."

Kensi squeezed his hand and swallowed and her face gave way to relief, and Hetty was utterly certain she had no idea about any of it.

"Very well." She gestured to the last car. "Your driver has orders to wait for you at the hospital. Barring an overnight stay, he will also get you home safely."

There was a quirk in the eyes of Detective Deeks which told Hetty he was thoroughly aware of the possible implications of that. That he realized Hetty was giving him permission to take Kensi home, or to go home with her, to stay the night with her. That he understood that this was a gift and an intentional one.

"Thanks," Kensi said, low and clipped.

"Yeah," Deeks met Hetty's eyes and let them speak for him. "Thanks."

Without a word, Callen scooped up Deeks's gear — as he was already carrying Kensi's — and followed them to the car. He exchanged a few quiet words with them both as he got them settled, then returned to Hetty's side as their driver pulled away.

"So. What about me?"

She regarded him for a moment. "Owen tells me that you essentially led your team into a no-win situation. That, if not for Mister Deeks and his timely arrival, I would not be welcoming five agents home, but one...accompanying four coffins."

"Three," he said.

She raised an eyebrow.

"If Deeks hadn't come, Sam and Granger and I wouldn't have made it — but they would have taken Kensi into Pakistan." He let out a breath that sounded like it hurt. "You wouldn't have gotten her back at all. And that's assuming Deeks could even abandon her like that."

"Hmm." She nodded. "Was there truly no other way to retrieve Miss Blye? Or was your only option to imitate Custer's Last Stand, with nearly the same end?"

"Granger wanted to wait for reinforcements, but we didn't know if they could even find us. We didn't have a lot of time to make a decision."

She peered at him, seeing his defensiveness only as a layer easily penetrated to his true feelings.

"You would have died."

He shut his eyes for a brief moment and nodded.

"You and Sam with you."

His mouth worked, and his jaw tightened, but he didn't answer.

"Was it worth it, Mister Callen?" She took a step closer to him, never letting him look away from her eyes. "Were your probable deaths worth the risk you took to save Kensi's life?"

Sudden understanding lit up in his own eyes. "That's not the right question."

"Oh?"

"The right question is — was the risk to _our_ lives worth the secret _you_ kept when you sent Kensi out there in the first place?"

Hetty flinched, her chest suddenly gone cold. But she faced him squarely and answered, "No. If you had died, or Sam, or Owen, it would have been my doing. My unwillingness to tell Miss Blye why I sent her. My decision that led to her capture. My fault."

Callen nodded back at her. "So, really, we're both to blame. You got her into that mess, and I almost couldn't get her out. They're _our_ team, right? So this one is on both of us."

"Very few people will see it that way, Mister Callen."

"Since when have I ever cared what anybody else thought?" he returned. "As far as I'm concerned, the only thing we can do now is deal with where we are. And, no matter what shape we're in, we're here."

Hetty found herself able to manage a tiny sliver of a smile at that boy who was so loyal and irrepressible even after a mission that could have been his last.

"But that doesn't tell me why we're still standing here and there's no car for me," he added with a bit of a familiar smirk.

"Tonight, you're coming home with me." She gave a slight shake of her head. "You're not the only one who almost lost their family on this one, Mister Callen. And while I am...surpassingly glad to have you all safe…"

He took the last steps forward between them and held out a hand. When she accepted it, he bent so he could meet her gaze more evenly.

"I'm sorry for worrying you, Hetty."

" _Worrying_ doesn't begin to describe it," she said, and she meant it to be exasperated and mocking, but it came out small and much more sincere than intended.

"I wish I could say I wouldn't do it again…"

"Don't make promises you have no intention of keeping," she said. She squeezed his hand between both of her own. "Especially not to me."

He swallowed. "Then I won't. But I'll promise you one thing."

She raised an eyebrow.

"If we ever have to do this again, if you keep something from us like this and we barely make it back — even if it is your fault, I'll still remind you why it's not your fault."

"That doesn't make any sense, Mister Callen."

"Sure it does," and the smirk on his face was looking more comfortable again. "Because you did the best you could to protect the people you swore to protect. You're the one who taught me that sometimes you have to make the best of a lot of bad options, and you can only work with what you can do with them. You sent Kensi there to save an innocent life, and you didn't tell her because you didn't want it to get her killed."

"And it could have gotten you all killed instead."

"But it didn't." He folded his other hand around both of hers. "And next time maybe you'll do things differently, but maybe you won't."

She glanced away.

"Hetty." He waited until she looked back into his face. "I know, I _know_ how bad this could have gone. For all of us. But even if it happens again...I'm still going to trust you to do the best you can. And that's enough for me."

"Oh, Mister Callen." She shook her head. "But will it be enough for the rest of your team?"

"Sure it will." And he made a real smile. "Because they trust you, too."

She almost whispered, "Even if my best intentions lead them straight into hell?"

"Even then." He straightened up, releasing her hands. "Now, this seems like the kind of conversation that should be accompanied by some tea, right?"

She let out a breath, shaking her head not at his suggestion, but at his easy forgiveness of her errors which could have cost his entire team their lives. At his ridiculous, unending faith in her and her judgement and her wisdom.

"Come on, Hetty. I could really use some tea after this week."

How could she deny him anything? How could she even consider it when he was here, safe and unhurt, when he had returned not just to LA, but to her, when he was still hers even after, once again, her secrets could have cost them everything?

But he was here. They were all here. None of them were dead on the side of a mountain in Afghanistan. None of them were resigning, or calling for a transfer. None of them had even hesitated to put themselves under her command tonight, though her only command was for them to rest and heal.

Once again, her family was bruised and torn, hurt and vulnerable — but they were not broken.

And the only thing to do now was to patch them up, in every way, and go forward.

She met his smile and managed to return it, albeit a little shakily.

"Some tea it is," she said, "and perhaps something stronger."

He actually shrugged as he fell into step beside her. "I dunno if I need anything stronger."

At her raised eyebrow, he grinned.

"After all, I've got you."


	116. S5E20 Windfall

Hey all – I'm feeling under the weather this week, but not too sick to update.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 5, Episode 20: Windfall

* * *

"Hey, Hetty?" Callen sidled up to her office while the others gathered near the door. "You want to come with us for drinks to celebrate Kensi being back?"

She smiled. "Not tonight, I think, though please give the others my regrets."

"Okay. See you tomorrow then." But he had only turned away when he paused and turned back. "Oh, and…"

"Yes, Mister Callen?" She raised her eyebrows and waited.

"Is it really okay? I mean, Kensi and Deeks…" He made a gesture with his hands that might, if considered lewdly, have been inappropriate — except that it was almost incomprehensible.

Incomprehensible to anyone but Hetty, that is. She, of course, could see the depth and breadth of a relationship spelled out in Callen's odd motions.

"Do you think it shouldn't be okay for some reason?" she turned it around on him.

Callen blinked, then shook his head. "I think it won't be easy, but they'll figure it out if they really want to."

"Good. I believe so, too."

"Yeah, but," he glanced around for a moment, "Granger's not going to like it."

"The list of things Owen doesn't like could fill every book in a library," Hetty replied. "Don't worry about Owen. Leave him to me."

Callen laughed. "I'd almost feel sorry for the guy...except not."

"Indeed." She waved. "Go on. Enjoy your team, Mister Callen."

"Thanks, Hetty." But his eyes had lost some of their bright sparkle and were more steady and sincere. "Thanks for giving me my team back."

"Thank you, Mister Callen, for giving them something worthy to come back _to_."

He sketched a terrible salute — it was so awful, Sam began yelling in pure indignation from across the office — and waved as he jogged back towards the others.

Hetty watched them go, smiling. All six of them, three sets of partners, looked right together as they rarely looked alone. It did much to ease her heart to see them at ease again.

Twenty minutes later, her phone dinged.

"I forgot to thank you for the poem."

She chuckled. "You're welcome," she sent back.

"You're a better poet than I am."

"I believe I've heard better poetry from those shooting games Mister Beale plays in Ops that he thinks I don't know about," she returned.

He sent her a face which was simultaneously smiling, winking, and sticking its tongue out. "Does that mean you'd help me write a better poem if I needed it someday?"

"Not a chance, dear."


	117. S5E21 Three Hearts

This is the episode with an undercover agent who turns out to be playing both sides, and in the end, Hetty backs him into a deal working for her. But there is no way this guy is good news.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 5, Episode 21: Three Hearts

* * *

He was leaning on her car when she arrived, having given Sam the slip for a few minutes.

Hetty paused and looked at him, waiting.

"You sure that was a good idea?" he asked.

"You don't always have to kill the snake, you know," she said. "Sometimes, if you de-fang them, they become helpful. How else do we get antivenom?"

Callen blew out a breath. "That's a hell of a chance you're taking, Hetty. Some snakes can kill without fangs, and now this one knows our address."

"It's a risk, I admit. But one I think is worth taking."

He stared at her for a moment, then nodded. "If you say so."

"You aren't convinced?"

"How do you know he'll ever work for you if you call in that debt?"

"I don't." She made a small, knowing smile. "But if he does come back looking to bite..."

G nodded. "I'll be there."

"Of course you will be."

They exchanged a long, silent look that said many things without words. This was the deepest shadow game, the show played by other agencies. This was walking on the edge of razor-wire, which could cut even if one didn't lose their balance and fall. But it was also sometimes the only way to play.

It was a game where, in theory, one could never trust anyone else, because no one could ever truly be on one's own side.

And the only reason it worked now was because G and Hetty had forsaken that last rule completely.

If this snake came out of the shadows, there was no question — neither would face it alone.

If this snake tried to bite, it would find a pair of mongoose ready to take it down before it could strike.


	118. S5E22 One More Chance

Hi all! Sorry about last week – I had Monday off and kind of forgot about everything other than chilling out and catching up on sleep.

The case on this episode had to do with a little girl Sam used to protect being kidnapped, but the more interesting interpersonal stuff was between Granger and Hetty; he kept dumping the nasty bits on her as part of their constant push-and-pull.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 5, Episode 22: One More Chance

* * *

Callen was still not sure if he considered Granger part of the team, but whether or not the man was one of his own, he still found himself annoyed by him at least once a day. Like today, when Granger had foisted off all the unpleasant tasks to Hetty, leaving her to get yelled at by SecNav when, really, it was his responsibility to make those calls.

Drinking with Deeks and Kensi afterwards didn't make up for it, even if Hetty got some of her own back by doing an end run around Granger anyway.

He also understood that there was some kind of long game of push-and-pull going on between Hetty and Granger, a game that, if he was any judge, went back decades. They were too used to the rhythm of it, the exchange of blows and debts, the cutting bits that were targeted for maximum damage but never a fatal blow.

Callen understood that game, even if he only played it light-heartedly with his own team or Hetty. But Granger and Hetty were all in, playing so hard sometimes it was far more than a game.

He knew Hetty never really let her guard down around Granger, and that was enough to tell him that this game could turn deadly serious any time.

And thus, Callen would not trust him. Not until Hetty did.

But he still felt bad that she had lost a round today.

He'd already dropped Joelle off at her place — she had an early morning and he was too wired for sleep any time soon. So now he had all night to come up with something, even if it wasn't much.

The smallest things sometimes made the biggest difference — look at the CD cover from today that unerringly led Sam to save a little girl.

He had a few ideas, but most of them were heavy hitters, things he could offer on a far worse day than this. Today had been a success in the end, saving a family and preserving national security. Hetty had been annoyed, not brokenhearted. He had to save his best moves for when their own game would need them.

The idea struck just as he got home. One quick text to Eric — who was definitely awake, apparently the man never slept when there were games to play on the internet — and he knew it would be done by morning.

He made sure to have Eric send it from Callen's email account, just in case Granger ever caught wind of it and was out for somebody's head. But G didn't think Granger would even know it existed. Hetty knew perfectly well how to keep such a thing a secret.

When he saw her the next morning, he simply raised his coffee cup to her in salute. She returned the gesture with her tea from across the office, smiling.

He blasted a quick text to Eric.

"Thanks. I owe you one."

Eric, wisely, didn't mention it in front of anyone else as the day began, but he looked smug all morning.

And well he should.

The GIF of a black chess king with Owen Granger's face on it — wearing an expression Eric had described as "truly derpy" — being toppled by a towering white queen crowned with Hetty's own face was absolutely perfect.

Callen found himself watching it on a loop on his phone any time he was bored for the next week. And he never _caught_ Hetty doing the same, but he was pretty sure she was.

And they both traded nearly invisible smiles whenever Granger was around, knowing now that his face could bend that way.


	119. S5E23 Exposure

This one was so cute. While the case was nail-biting, more critically it brought into view the idea that, in their line of work, there's no telling what tomorrow will bring and when or if they will get a chance to tell the people they love what they feel. Upstairs in Ops, Nell and Eric each took a green sticky note and wrote some feelings for one another, then exchanged them. Later, they left notes for the rest of the team. It was adorable.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 5, Episode 23: Exposure

* * *

Hetty had watched her team's handling of the green sticky notes with warm affection. Even Owen, who insisted on ruining every precious moment in every day without fail, couldn't quite dim the glow of her pride in her team. They truly were the best, and working together, she felt certain that any challenge, no matter how dangerous, could be met and beaten.

And it wasn't just their skills, all of which were superb. It was their ability and willingness to work together, to find strengths in the collective where they might have been weighed down by individual weaknesses. It was their ability to approach every situation with a mix of humanity and professionalism, and to remain focused on both simultaneously even in trying moments. It was their innate trust, not just between partners, but across the whole.

For example, they might not trust Eric Beale with a gun, but they trusted him to guard their backs from Ops. And when he ordered them to run, or told them they were compromised, or explained a dangerous scenario, their trust in him was as solid as Callen's in Sam Hanna.

They had learned that trust and courage, as well as competence, took many forms. And among the six of them, Hetty knew they had many facets of each covered and covered well.

That had always been the plan, of course.

But, still. It was different, and utterly gratifying, to see it play out as she had hoped.

In the beginning, she had seen the potential for this much, but there was no guarantee it would ever arrive. G Callen, even partnered with Sam, tended to trust few and to share little of himself. Sam Hanna had been honorable and kind, but had hidden his family from all for most of his career. Kensi Blye had rarely given her feelings vent, let alone facts regarding her past. Marty Deeks had adapted himself to the role of an outsider, diffusing tension with a joke without ever opening himself to real harm. Eric Beale was eager, but tended towards self-consciousness. Nell Jones was used to having to battle for respect and coped with it by pushing back and pushing hard.

It could have been a firestorm in a bottle if the six of them hadn't learned to relax their barriers around one another, to put tiny bits of trust in the hands of the others and seen them held with care and respect. Like a chemical reaction, they could have proven volatile and unstable.

Instead, they were strengthened, centered, and more grounded than ever.

And not just because two of the three sets of partners were dancing around a different kind of partnership, either.

Hetty believed that this team would have coalesced regardless of possible romantic feelings. Those were just a bonus on top of the rest of it.

She considered the little green notes again.

Yes, after a case like this, many agents recalled how fragile and uncertain life in their life of work could be, and thus reaching out to affirm the unsaid feelings in the heart was perfectly natural. She had, of course, peeked at the four left by Miss Jones and Mister Beale for the others — purely as an exercise in oversight. And she was not surprised that either of the pair were so frank with their feelings and so willing to make them known, even in a non-romantic context.

She was pleased that the rest of the team, even those who hid their true emotions whenever possible, had accepted them with such grace.

But then, she also knew that those feelings were very firmly, if platonically, returned.

Unbeknownst to the others, Nell and Eric had left the stack of green sticky notes out while they made their rounds. Only Nell had dared offer the pile to Hetty, saying nothing but raising an eyebrow in invitation.

Hetty had declined. "They know already," was how she answered Nell's look.

Nell had smiled and nodded, and, interestingly, had not left one for Hetty for the exact same reason.

Yes, Hetty was fully aware that her team knew her feelings.

But as she passed the bullpen once more before packing up for the evening, she paused.

She did not need to affirm anything to them. Her team knew.

But.

She sighed at her own foolishness, but that did not stop her from lifting a single piece of the green, sticky paper from the stack of notes. She did not write on it. She simply placed it in her pocket and carried it with her. Hetty decided she would either talk herself out of it on the way over, or would see it through and be able to forget it.

She slipped the blank note into Callen's mailbox.

Her team was her family, and they all knew it. She loved them all, dearly. She would fight, kill, and die for any one of them, and she would protect them with all her power and all her strength and every favor she could curry the world over if needed. They knew that all too well.

But, even so, it was different with Callen. Like all the rest of her children, it was always different with those who were hers before they belonged to themselves.

She knew he knew that, too. But this, like so much else, was just another moment for the two of them. Another secret in the game they played with the world, the game she played with all her other children across every agency in this country and several others. The game of pretending their bond could be measured by an agency evaluation or timecard, not in the years prior.

So she left him a blank note. It could never have contained all the words, and so she did not attempt to write any of them. She knew he would hear her meaning anyway.

The following day, she found a newspaper balled up on her desk. Sensing a particular hand in such an odd and inelegant gift, she unwrapped it when no one else was about.

It was an entire stack of green sticky notes — every one of them blank but the top.

"Me, too."


	120. S5E24 Deep Trouble, Part 1

Welp, here we go with the end of the series.

Of note, what I find interesting in this episode is not the contact between Callen and Hetty, but it's lack. With the whispers of Hetty being called to Washington, you'd think there would be at least a sense of that tension – but there isn't. Callen ends the episode so hyper-focused on the case he doesn't even notice that he hasn't checked in with Hetty at all.

So I explained it.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 5, Episode 24: Deep Trouble, Part 1

* * *

She had only just sent Kensi away when the text from Callen arrived.

"On our way in. Anything new?"

Hetty frowned. Such an inquiry was not one he typically sent her way — it was the sort of status update he would request from one of the others up in Ops.

She glanced over where Kensi was stalking back towards her partner.

Mister Deeks was putting his phone back in his pocket.

Of course. Leave it to the detective to monitor her discussion from a distance and decide to contact Callen.

She had no time to explain and, truth be told, this was one battle she didn't want him to fight. Not now, not when this case was troubling her. It wasn't anything she could pinpoint, but there was a weight to this one which had her thinking about her arm holster.

Whatever political game was afoot, the best thing for the case and for Callen himself was to keep him far away from it.

He would be angry later, but this was necessary.

She sent back, "I need you to enact Komodo protocol."

She was pleased when he didn't reply immediately. Two minutes later, he sent a response.

"Confirm Komodo?"

If he were here, she might well have hugged him. She could have phrased it as an order, of course, and would have if he hadn't accepted it. But this was one he wouldn't countermand, not right now.

If he knew about her summons to Washington, he might. But he didn't. And with Komodo in place, he wouldn't even bother to track her, possibly wouldn't even notice her absence. Not until it was too late.

It was a code she had put in place with him years ago. She had a similar one with many of her agents, and with all of the children who had looked to her. A code which was an order, one to surpass any others save the oaths given to the country.

She remembered telling him about it early in his career.

"Komodo dragons have a very unique way of hunting," she had said. "After their initial attack, they will single-mindedly pursue their prey, returning to strike again and again, never ceasing, never turning away from the meal they have marked for themselves.

"Someday I may ask you to adopt the same focus, Mister Callen. Someday I may call upon you to focus on your prey, looking neither left nor right, but pursuing your mission without distraction. If I ask you to become a Komodo, I need you to bend your entire force of will upon what is before you, no matter what."

And he had accepted it.

She typed back, "Komodo confirmed. Good hunting."

He didn't even reply, and she could almost sense the full weight of his attention and skill being brought to bear upon the case. Somehow, she had a feeling he would need it.

Hetty considered telling him not to press Owen too hard when he finally learned why she had shut him out so effectively, but decided it wasn't worth the effort.

Either way, he wouldn't let her down. No matter what Washington held, she had that much comfort to carry with her.


	121. S6E1 Deep Trouble, Part 2

Season 6, Episode 1: Deep Trouble, Part 2

* * *

Callen was surprised when Hetty sent Nell to check him and Sam for injuries instead of coming herself. Nell was competent, of course, but there was only one non-doctor he would ever really trust to assess him — the same person who had once dug a bullet out of Sam's leg while he was undercover.

After the appallingly chosen drinks were downed — and of course G drank because who wouldn't drink a depth charge right after surviving one? — he made his way back to the office. To keep in practice while waiting for Granger to leave, he did a full perimeter sweep, looking for weaknesses, sight-lines, vulnerabilities. Even after six years, there was always a chance something had been missed. By the time he finished, Granger was leaving and Hetty was alone.

He waited just long enough to make sure Granger didn't spot him heading back in before he slipped into the familiar building and followed the only light still on to Hetty's desk.

Hetty held out a bottle of water.

G raised an eyebrow. "What, so Granger gets the good stuff and I don't?"

She shook her head at him. "After what you've been through, and what you've already consumed with your team in the boatshed, I think water is a wise choice. Don't you?"

He shrugged and slid into place. "So. Komodo, huh?"

"Only you would so blithely ignore the fact of your very near death today."

Callen caught an edge in her words and looked more closely. She looked shaken.

"Hetty...I'm sorry. And, believe me, I know how close it was."

"Yes," she said, and the word had weight, "I believe you do."

"And it really wasn't anything we could have prevented. It was just...part of the job."

"No, I know that." She let out a breath. "How many times are we going to do this dance, Mister Callen? How many times will I stand up there in Ops praying that you will live to see another sunrise?"

Callen swallowed, but he didn't back down. "Until the job is over."

And it was the right answer, the only answer, and he hated the grief it gave her.

She nodded and sipped at her own drink for a moment.

"Komodo," she said finally. "Owen said you accosted him?"

She wasn't all right yet, but he could tell she needed this to be normal and he would gladly give her that much. "I wouldn't say accosted. Maybe...prodded."

That won him a sliver of a smile. "Indeed."

"He didn't really tell us anything."

"So far," she said, "there's not much to tell. I've been recalled to Washington to account for my behavior."

G sat forward in his chair. "What are they looking for?"

"I'm not sure, honestly, but I am relatively certain the White Ghost will haunt me while I'm there. Figuratively, of course."

"They're calling you out for saving Kensi?"

"Oh, probably." She waved a hand, settling back into her normal posture. "I've ruffled a lot of feathers in my time, Mister Callen. And chickens do eventually come home to roost, if you'll forgive the mixed metaphor."

He shook his head. "It's not right. It's not fair."

"Likely not. But it is also, as you said, part of the job."

There was a twitch like a miniature flinch, one even he almost missed. But it told him enough to look more closely until he could trace the threads of her thoughts. He could see them in her eyes. If he and Sam hadn't made it back, she would have gone to Washington to resign.

"How long will you be gone?" he asked, because he couldn't insult her now by making sure she intended to come back.

"Honestly, I've no idea. You know how our government is. They could draw it out for months if they wished." She held up a hand even as he was opening his mouth. "And, no. You cannot come with me. There is a case which needs your urgent attention, and which you must begin at once. It will take weeks to get you and Mister Hanna in place and we cannot afford any delays."

He sighed. "You'll be all right?"

"Oh, I'm sure I'll be fine." Then, from the folds of her expression came a smirk, like a set of hidden fangs. "I may choose not to play the game of politics, but, I assure you, it is one I can still win handily when necessary."

G smiled back. "Well, if you need tactical support…"

"Do not even consider interrupting any testimony I am forced to give, or, as I told Mister Beale only this afternoon, you will regret it long after your wounds have healed."

He laughed. "Someday you're really going to scare Eric to death."

"I hope not. I've put too much time into breaking him in."

Callen snorted. "In all seriousness, though, you will contact us if you need something?"

"I have my contingencies in play as usual," she said. Which told Callen that she had more than one plan, and at least one of them involved Nell because Nell was Hetty's favorite contingency. It had never bothered him that she put her trust in the analyst instead of himself — Nell thought like Hetty in some ways, and needed the training besides. When Hetty needed someone not to _think_ , but to simply _know_ , he would be there.

Still, he wasn't comfortable with this particular summons. He didn't like her going alone, didn't like her being interviewed or testifying or whatever she was going to do, and he especially didn't like that she had no clear idea what they would be looking for. The uncertainty, and the arbitrariness of it, put him on his guard.

"You're not...they won't reassign you, will they?" he found himself asking.

"I think not, but one never can tell." She must have seen something in his face because she gave him a smile, a real one. "Fear not, Mister Callen. I shall haunt this office long after the politicians think I should be out of the game. No matter what happens in Washington, my work and my home will always be here."

She left the "with you" unspoken, but he heard it anyway.


	122. S6E2 Inelegant Heart

Sorry for missing last week – I actually had it in my plan because I was at a convention, but I forgot to warn you ahead! Anyway, here are the next two episodes in this sequence of Hetty in LA while bad guys (ahem) break into her houses and threaten her team. This arc is one of my favorites just because of all the holes it let me fill in!

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 6, Episode 2: Inelegant Heart

* * *

Callen wasn't sleeping. He paced his floors in the dark, moving soundlessly, never holding still and never passing over the same floorboards more than once.

Someone had bought Hetty's personal information.

Hetty was in Washington, alone, unprotected.

And he was still in LA, waiting for the hammer to fall.

Of course, if Hetty had been in LA, Callen would have been guarding her himself, and no orders, no government, no power on earth would have prevented him. It was only because she was in Washington that he was holding position for now.

The information that had been bought was personal — at least one of Hetty's residences. But it was bought some time before she flew out to Washington to be interrogated or whatever those political idiots thought they were doing to her. If someone was after Hetty now, right this instant, they wouldn't be in LA at all if they knew her whereabouts.

So whoever had bought the information _didn't_ know Hetty's whereabouts.

They might be waiting in ambush, or preparing a strike for later. But right now, the safest place for Hetty was all the way across the country in the mire that was Washington.

That made it a waiting game.

Callen could have gone to her houses, checked them for surveillance or worse, but that would mean revealing his own hand. Right now, whoever was hunting Hetty probably didn't know he was onto them. If he lost that tiny tactical advantage, it might cost him more than he could pay.

But with Hetty gone dark in Washington, having left behind anything that could make her easy to trace or that could give away information to the politicians and bureaucrats, he couldn't even reach out to her.

Spending a couple of weeks in prison didn't feel nearly as cut off as he did right now knowing he couldn't reach her when it actually mattered.

G's thoughts wound around and around, imagining every possible angle, every possible threat, every possible danger, until it was well past midnight.

Then his phone rang.

He picked it up, squinting at the screen in the darkness. The caller was blocked.

He drew in a breath. 'Blocked' could mean a lot of things.

Affecting the voice of a man woken from a sound sleep, he answered, deliberately huffing into the phone before letting out a sleepy, "Yeah?"

"Nice act, Callen."

He blinked. He recognized that woman's voice, but he couldn't place it.

"Who is this?"

"There will be people who come into your life. And you'll know you're safe when you're with them."

He stopped, frozen on the edge of fury at familiar words from the first night at home in his life. "How do you know that?"

"Is that really a question for your cousin?" returned the voice, clearly amused.

Cousin.

He had no family, but he had Hetty. He'd talked about her other children like himself before, called them 'cousins.' And there was only one currently alive whom he had ever met and known about it.

Grace Stevens.

"It's late," he complained. That was an opening, pitched to be friendly and familiar, without giving away any names or secret information. After all, there was no way to know who might be listening to either one of them.

"Tough." And he could hear the approval in her tone. "I'm calling in a favor."

"Not sure I owe you one."

"Well, you owe _somebody_."

Yeah, that got his attention.

"What do you need?"

"An old-school ball player."

There were a lot of ways that line could be interpreted, but G understood it regardless. Hetty was a basketball fan, and especially in the early days of training him — and apparently Grace Stevens — had used basketball as an analogy for tradecraft many times.

Specifically when it came to passing information, or moving players around the court.

He lowered his voice. "I know a couple of good power forwards."

"Do they play for a team worth their colors?"

He mentally translated that: _Are they trustworthy?_ "They can go a few sets of round robin if that's what you need."

"Good." He could hear the touch of relief in her voice. "Watch for an email. I'll need their stats."

"Understood."

He hung up, knowing there was nothing else to say.

Grace Stevens had called him. Grace Stevens was looking for contacts, trustworthy contacts. And she had come to him to get them.

Which meant she couldn't use her own. And Hetty couldn't use hers, either.

Which probably meant Hetty needed backup, backup no one could know about, no one could trace easily. And neither of them were able to ask for that backup directly. And if they were looking for backup in the form of tradecraft, then this wasn't a politics game anymore.

His gut went tight.

He stared at the phone in his hand.

"Hetty, what is going on?"


	123. S6E3 Praesidium

Season 6, Episode 3: Praesidium

* * *

Hetty breathed in relief when Nell confirmed she and the others were safe after the shootout at Dovecote. She would have felt far better if she could have spoken to them all — if she could have seen them on one of the screens in Ops, could have confirmed for herself that they were unharmed.

But Leon was keeping her on a very tight leash. He'd permitted the call to Miss Jones on a secured line only after she threatened to expose that little adventure he thought she didn't know about down in Paraguay. Leon let her speak to Nell twice, once during the shooting and once afterwards, but that was it. Then she was escorted to a secure location for the night with a half-dozen agents who were so professional and cold, they might have been robots.

 _Oh, I must be missing Los Angeles if I am starting to think like Mister Beale._

Hetty shook herself.

 _This is not the time to indulge in such fanciful ponderings. There is too much to do._

She would probably need a full day to turn those agents of Leon's, but when they did turn to her service instead of his, it would be complete. Leon never had quite the same talent for getting his hooks into people as she did. It would give her something to do, anyway, besides pacing in the small bedroom she'd been allotted and counting the changes of the watch.

Other than worry.

And grieve.

 _Oh, Duke._

The only bright spot in the loss of such an old and loyal friend was the fact that Duke had always kept very much to himself. Even Mister Callen knew him casually at best. They had crossed paths many times, but never moved beyond cordial to friendly. It was in both of their natures to be suspicious and standoffish.

Except with her, of course.

That was one of the common threads amongst the people Hetty trusted most in the world, she supposed. Those who survived in their world of secrets and danger tended to be loners, unwilling to forge connections or build much in the way of rapport. It was what made them good at their jobs, but like any good rule, there would always be exceptions.

Hetty knew herself to be that exception for many of her allies.

She smiled to herself at how neatly Grace had arranged some trustworthy individuals to help her escape from her hearing. Those people had come to Grace by way of Agent Callen, she was certain. She could read it in their very mannerisms. She also knew that agents of this quality meant her boy had called in some major favors to get them to take this on.

Whatever was happening in Los Angeles, the fact that G Callen had called in such favors meant he was badly worried.

And that was reason enough for her to be even more concerned.

First the breach at Dovecote, now the possibility of a mole. If trouble truly did decide to arrive, as it often did, in threes, the third would be worse.

She needed to start working on an exit strategy. Turning one of Leon's agents would get her a means back to Los Angeles, but it would take more than that to get out of the hearings and make her flight.

Her team, as Leon said, was largely unstoppable, could stand against any threat — but she did not want them to have to stand alone.

They were her team. This trouble was hers, and one man was already dead. And now, even from the opposite coast, she knew that her team would be doing everything possible, and several things which were more than reckless, all in an attempt to protect her.

Her team was in danger, and the storm on the horizon was getting darker all the time.

She needed to be there to keep her family safe in return, no matter what.


	124. S6E4 The 3rd Choir

Hey all,

I am so sorry for the delay. Life has been WEIRD. On the plus side, I managed to quit my old job with my less-than-stellar boss and got a new one which I start next Monday! But that, plus the current state of illness in the world has been taking just about all of my attention.

So, here are these 2 chapters, and then I'll take off a couple of weeks to acclimate to the new job and then I'll go back to posting regularly, I promise.

This episode is absolutely, positively one of my favorites. Opening with Callen putting out a bounty on Matthias to protect Hetty, and it only goes from there? Oh, heck yeah. So I hope I did it justice!

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 6, Episode 4: The 3rd Choir

* * *

G couldn't have stayed away even if it cost him his life. Not when Hetty had walked out onto the floor to that man. Not when he hadn't been sure he would get to her before Matthias did. Not when Duke was dead and her homes were compromised and Matthias had actually _been in Ops_. Had actually _stood in their office_ and _dared point a gun at Hetty_.

If Hetty hadn't shot that bastard herself, he would absolutely have done it. And in an even worse spot than she chose. Far more painful, at least.

Hetty must have seen something in his expression — he knew he wasn't controlling his face now with his heart pounding and his blood singing and his nerves wound tight. He hadn't slept while he'd roamed the city to come up with the bounty, and he hadn't eaten except when forced by Sam because food tasted like sand while Matthias was hunting her. His whole being had become a live wire, a living weapon with one target and one objective.

She must have recognized it in him, because she had quickly manipulated matters accordingly.

Granger started making noises about needing to debrief, and Hetty shut him down.

"I'm tired, I'm bruised, and I've been in vile company — and that's not counting the time spent in Washington," she had said. "I am going home."

"You can't," Nell had said. "Hetty, your personal information…"

"I know." She'd raised a hand. "But not all of it was leaked, and I have a few tricks left up my sleeve."

And she had turned to him, eyes flashing a silent message.

He was moving before he even realized he'd understood. "I'll get her someplace safe," he promised.

A lot of glances were exchanged, fond smiles and exasperated frowns hidden, but in the end, that's what Granger agreed to. He and Nate opted to brief the Director while Sam coordinated with the ambulance for the DOJ investigator and Kensi and Deeks handled Matthias.

Callen hadn't actually decided if he was going to kill Matthias anyway. He was still thinking about it. But that could wait. For now, the only thing that mattered was collecting Hetty and taking her to one of their safe houses, watching every instant for anyone who might pose a threat or be tracking them. Matthias was a slippery bastard, and there was every chance he had a few more contingency plans waiting.

G couldn't help the idle thought that he wouldn't mind if Matthias had sent one more round of goons, though. It would give him the chance to hurt someone, and after the last few days, he really, really wanted to take it out on someone deserving of his rage.

But no one followed their car, and no one followed them on foot through the network of blind spots that led to the tiny, thankfully un-compromised safe house. It wasn't an NCIS location — it was one Hetty and Callen both knew and had used a time or two in the past. It wasn't someplace Hetty normally stayed, but it was stocked with the basic provisions just in case. And it had tea.

As if any safe house Hetty knew about wouldn't have tea.

They didn't exchange so much as a word until both were settled in threadbare armchairs in the small living room with their mugs of tea.

Only when she was sitting across from him, shoes off and feet tucked under her, only when he could take his gun from its place at his back where he could draw it quicker than the eye could track and set it on the table instead — only then did he clear his throat.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

He swallowed. "I thought about checking each of your houses when we first found out they had your information. If I had, I could have saved Duke."

"Or you could have ended up lying beside him." She shook her head. "No. I already lost one member of my family on this one. I am...grateful not to lose another."

"But I could have warned him."

"And the result would have been the same." He could hear the heaviness of her grief in her voice, but also her certainty. "Don't blame yourself, dear. I am simply grateful that you are alive and unharmed, in spite of Matthias's best efforts."

He nodded, accepting her forgiveness, but that led him to something else he needed to say. "You should have stayed in Washington. You were safer there."

"I shall make you a deal, Mister Callen," she said. "If you refrain from attempting such a ridiculous argument with me of all people, I shall not call out your hypocrisy." She pinned him with a look. "Or would you rather I enumerate all the times you have walked into a situation just as dangerous for the sake of what must be done? The lengths to which you have gone to protect someone?"

He opened his mouth to argue that it was different, that he did it for cases and national security, not because he was overly protective...and the words died on his tongue.

Okay, she had a good point.

"Right," he said, and he sipped his tea.

Hetty leaned back in the chair. "I understand you offered a reward to anyone who could bring in Matthias. That was a very foolhardy decision, and could have placed you at great risk."

"I'm not sorry for doing it," he said, though he was a little sorry that she knew about it. Not that he reasonably could have kept her from finding out one way or another, but still. "We needed to locate him."

"Someday, Mister Callen, that desperation is going to cause you to make a misstep. Possibly a fatal one."

"Maybe," he acknowledged. "But not this time."

He stared into his mug of tea for a moment. Now that the adrenaline was gone, now that Matthias was locked up — and he still might kill the bastard — and Hetty was safe, even looking at his actions over the last few days in the light of retrospect, he couldn't regret any of it. He'd have done the same for Sam or Kensi or Deeks or Nell or Eric or Nate.

(Probably not Granger, not unless Hetty asked him to. But then he'd be doing it for Hetty anyway, so that wouldn't count.)

Well, if he were honest with himself, he might not have pulled his entire life savings for anyone else just because he might have opted to leave some cash in case it was needed to help them in other ways later or something. To empty every single stash wouldn't have been his first move with anyone else. But if it were needed, if it were the only move to make to help them, then he'd have given up every dollar without another thought.

Hetty had already done the same thing herself, of course, for Kensi in Afghanistan. Which was part of what got her into trouble in Washington in the first place.

Well, at least he had precedent for it.

G couldn't decide if he wanted to ask her about Washington, about the hearing, about how exactly she got out of it, or if he just didn't want to know. If it was going to come back to bite them later, he'd need to know eventually.

Maybe he'd leave it for another day.

Or, as Hetty regularly reminded him, he'd leave that worry to his enemies and focus on what was right in front of him now.

He stretched his legs and started telling his body that it was okay to relax again. They were both safe, and he was going to keep them safe. He could sense Hetty doing something similar in the other chair.

If he was having trouble letting go after this had hit so close to home, he couldn't imagine how she was feeling. She'd have to give up Dovecote and Briar Patch and the others, now. Would have to bury Duke. Would have to go back into hiding a little, just in case.

That must hurt, he realized. Hetty was a master at tradecraft, had lived for so long and so comfortably before being compromised in this way. Not only was this a blow to her homes and to Duke, but to her pride.

To say nothing of actually forcing her to reveal a little more of herself to the others.

If that part didn't bother Hetty, it certainly bothered Callen. He liked their little world of just the two of them, the secrets they kept from the others. It was a game, and it was home, and it was familiar, and it was family.

Damn Matthias anyway.

But right now, maybe just having her back in LA, back where he knew she was safe, back where he could watch over her — and she would be there to watch over him, too — maybe that was enough.

He tipped his head towards her. "By the way."

"Hmm?"

"How come you never told me about the secret passage in Dovecote?"

She smiled. "A girl's got to keep some secrets, Mister Callen."

He chuckled, knowing that had more significance than ever today. "Even from me?"

"Call it an old habit." Then she glared at him over her glasses. "And do _not_ take that as an invitation to search the rest of my homes for them."

"Oh, you can't even stop me now." He grinned. "I'm going over every one of those places with a fine-toothed comb." Then he paused. "You know, I didn't even think about it until right now, but...you didn't give Nell the information on the rest of the houses. Just five or six."

"The main ones, yes. Even Miss Jones doesn't need to know every piece of property I own in a hundred mile radius, _unlike_ certain nosy agents I could name."

G let out a breath and finally felt that everything was going to be all right again. Even if some of Hetty's life had been made known to the others, there were still things which only he, and, okay, maybe his cousins, _maybe_ , would ever really know about her. And that was how it should be.

But, still. He had to tease her anyway. She was home. He'd missed it.

And he was also still trying to keep her from circling back to the fact that he would soon be investigating all those properties until he knew every secret passage and door and trick he'd missed before.

So he pretended to shake his head at her, tutting. "Secrets again?"

Hetty saluted him with her mug, eyes knowing. She probably knew every thought in his mind right now, and that, more than anything else, proved to him that they were back where they belonged.

"Always, Mister Callen. Always."


	125. S6E5 Black Budget

This is the episode where Callen and Sam end up in Mexico chasing the one survivor of an office shooting who turns out to be in league with the bad guys, and they try to defend a house populated with women who are way too interested in landing themselves an American boyfriend. I love that Granger plays the white knight in this one, and those sassy girls!

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 6, Episode 5: Black Budget

* * *

This time the bag on her desk was bright pink, with flowing text in Spanish. The red flower on the package had been altered to have a smiley face in the middle of it.

Hetty picked it up, noting the heft of the bag.

"Hibiscus tea," she said.

Unerringly Callen appeared from the side. " _Agua de Jamaica_ as they say in Mexico," he said. "The girls were very firm that I buy only this brand. They said the rest taste like they were made with packets of Kool-Aid."

Hetty smiled. "I'm surprised you had the time to discuss tea given your adventures."

"Well." He squirmed for an instant. "We traded phones around a couple of times…"

"And they got your number." She shook her head at his sheepish expression. "Rather a rookie mistake. Assuming it was a mistake at all."

" _Definitely_ a mistake," he said. "I've been getting texts almost every hour since we left."

"They owe you their lives, and a lot more, I imagine."

Callen blinked. He knew Sam hadn't said anything about the money they'd left behind. And Granger had sworn his report would read the same. How did Hetty…?

"Because I know you, Mister Callen," she answered before he could even ask. "And I also know how to read bank statements."

Before he could become alarmed, she raised a hand.

"Not to worry. Owen made it very clear that the missing cash _could_ have been lost before you even entered the country. No one is going to trouble those women."

"Good. Especially since they gave me the recommendation for your tea."

"Thank them for me the next time you get a text, please."

A moment later, G's phone pinged.

"After you have expressed my gratitude, however," she added, "please get Eric to do something to reroute those messages. The sooner the better."

Callen looked at the message without allowing her to see it, and his face went bright red, redder than the flower on the bag sitting upon Hetty's desk.

"I'll go talk to him right now."

Hetty waited until he was out of earshot to laugh.


	126. S6E6 SEAL Hunter

Hi all,

I am back and, hopefully, will be consistent about updating going forward except when planned to skip a week. We have the rest of season 6 and all of season 7 to finish, after all!

I hope all of you are being safe right now. Take excellent and gentle care of yourselves and one another, okay?

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 6, Episode 6: SEAL Hunter

* * *

All the joking aside, there was an undercurrent in Callen that was still very, very angry.

His partner had been wrongly accused, arrested, lost in the system by a pair of conniving, selfish paper-pushers, and all for a man who didn't have the courage of a snail. There were only a few things that had made the whole experience bearable.

First, of course, was the fact that Sam simply hadn't done it, and no amount of DNA evidence could have changed his mind. Nor, it seemed, the minds of the rest of the team. Their staunch loyalty, even in the face of such facts, had mollified him considerably.

Second was Granger, as much as that surprised him. But Granger had watched Sam's back for the whole case, had been two steps ahead of Callen in finding and retrieving him, and hadn't doubted either — when he wasn't exactly known for his overall willingness to stand by the team. It had felt a little bit like he was being schooled, since Granger reveled in showing Callen up and he knew it, but that was a small price to pay for the assistance he gave Sam.

The third thing, though, was the fact that Hetty let him work the case in the first place.

"Confined to my desk," was what he had said, and she had nodded. But that nod wasn't agreement to his words — rather, she had silently, and without giving anything away to anyone, endorsed his actual plan.

He hadn't needed to tell her that the sea would turn to jelly before he'd just sit around and wait while Sam was in trouble. He hadn't needed to ask her to look the other way as he bent and broke rules while also not compromising the investigation in any meaningful way — just in case they needed their evidence to hold up in court without charges of being a rogue agent. He hadn't needed to warn her that he was stepping outside the lines without losing control and ask that she trust him.

All of that had been communicated in a single glance. And while they both said the correct and proper and legal things out loud, they both had known that nothing of the sort was what either really meant.

If there were no other reason — and there were so many other reasons — Hetty would have Callen's eternal loyalty and trust for just that.

As they cleared out of the office, waiting in the fresh air while Hetty supervised the burning of Deeks's awful vegetable, Callen looked at Granger a little more appreciatively.

He still didn't exactly like the man — but he respected him a little more. Anyone who would go so far for Sam was worth that much.

Granger gave him a measuring look back, and Callen could see the amusement and also the censure in the expression. The Assistant Director knew exactly what Callen had done, and why, and though he wasn't going to cause trouble about it, they both knew he'd be within his rights to punish G for his actions.

Then Hetty emerged from the office, still chastising Deeks over that stench, and looked up at both of them.

Callen wasn't quite sure what she communicated to Granger, but it made him roll his eyes and look away.

Her smile for him, though, and her wry, smug amusement, told him everything he needed to know.


	127. S6E7 Leipei

This chapter has almost nothing to do with the episode. Truly. It was inspired by one of those blink-and-you-miss-it conversations between Sam and Callen, barely even a recurring joke. But it got me thinking, so it got Callen thinking.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 6, Episode 7: Leipei

* * *

It was a week after the drone case when Hetty texted Callen just before midnight.

All it said was, "Really?"

He was awake, of course, and he started to laugh the instant he saw it. With every day that went by, he'd been waiting more and more eagerly. The idea had come from his discussion about robots and drones with Sam, and the fact that he'd pulled it off this long was almost a miracle. Which made it all the more enjoyable, of course.

"Something wrong?" he sent back.

The response was immediate: a picture of a tiny white disc bumping around in Hetty's master bathroom.

It had gotten itself partially behind the toilet, and looked like it was about a moment away from knocking over the towel rack. There was something scrawled across the top of it which wasn't legible in the picture.

Callen grinned as he typed a response. "Looks like you got yourself a pet!"

He could almost feel her exasperation in her reply, which was, of course, the point. "A Roomba is not a pet. And why on earth is it in here?"

"Well," he typed very carefully and slowly just to make her wait, "they're programmed to clean the floors and carpets on a single level. It probably cleaned the other rooms and found the door open."

"WHY is it HERE?"

 _Oh, I am in such trouble and it was so worth it._ "That house is all one level. Seems an efficient solution. I know you hate vacuuming."

"And why, precisely, is it named 'Grumpy?'"

 _So much trouble_. "They all needed names. It's not nice just to call it 'vacuum puck thing.'"

There was an ominous pause before the next text.

"Are you telling me there are SIX MORE of these things in my houses?"

"Your floors have never been cleaner," he replied.

Ten minutes went by without any kind of response. At last, one more text arrived.

"While I deeply appreciate your dedication to housekeeping, know that two can play at this game. And when I imitate the role of the powerful wicked queen, you will not enjoy the apple I feed you. In the meantime, I fully expect you to come over tomorrow for dinner and teach me how to program it — the idiotic thing keeps getting stuck in a corner."

The next day, G made a point of stopping at the other houses to check on the other Roombas before dinnertime, just to see if any of the others had gotten stuck. He discovered that she had beat him to them and had carefully renamed most of them.

Happy had become Nuisance.

Doc had become Incorrigible.

Sneezy had become Juvenile.

Sleepy had become Troublesome.

Bashful had become Ridiculous.

But Dopey was still Dopey and, upon arriving for dinner, he was greeted by an unchanged Grumpy as well.

It took G no time at all to realize that she had deliberately changed them all to refer to himself. It took him _days_ to stop giggling about it.


	128. S6E8 The Grey Man

Sorry to get this one up a little late! I hope you're all staying safe!

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 6, Episode 8: The Grey Man

* * *

"That's the thing about the Grey Man. He never reveals his secrets."

He drew in a deep breath. He could hear what she didn't say this time.

But Callen looked up and decided to put it into words anyway. "Then it's a good thing I'm not a Grey Man anymore, isn't it?"

"Yes." And her smile was warm and fond. "Yes, it is, Mister Callen. I think we can both agree that we are better for leaving our Grey days behind us."

That steadied him, the reminder that he was not entirely alone in this legacy of silence and detachment. And if Hetty could transform from the Greyest agent ever to work for the Company into what she had become, then he could, too.

He could keep these friends that had become his family. He could build a future, whereas Goodsell had been trapped in an empty past.

"Thanks, Hetty."

"Any time," she returned. "Now, you look like a man who could use an evening out in the world, enjoying that which you work so hard to protect."

He huffed a laugh. "A night on the town? Only if you're offering to keep me company."

"I think we could both use a relaxing evening. And there's a new restaurant I've been dying to try. Apparently its dulce de leche is a dream."

G stood up, always surprised and grateful that Hetty could pull him out of himself so easily and lead him back to thoughts that were neither so heavy nor so lonely.

"Works for me." As he fell into step with her, he paused. "Oh, but speaking of food."

"Yes?"

"You couldn't have just _said_ Granger was heading to the 6400 block of Hollywood Boulevard today?"

Hetty raised an eyebrow. "I believe I did."

"No." Callen smirked. "You told us a story about Claude Rains and froyo." He frowned. "And I'm all for tween-speak, but I think that's going a little far. It sounds like something you use to clean up after a dog, not a food."

Hetty regarded him over the frames of her glasses. "Was there a point in there somewhere, Mister Callen?"

"Oh. Right. So...why the song and dance about Granger when you clearly knew exactly where he was and who he was meeting?"

She smiled. "When a hunter is hunting, how do you sneak up on him?"

"Get in his blind spot." He shook his head. "So…?"

"Owen was trying to keep his end of this case very much under the radar. I can respect that." She tipped her head. "We all play our games, after all."

"You more than most." Callen ducked his head, acknowledging and amused.

"Just so. And should this case have gone differently, it's entirely possible that Owen and I would both need plausible deniability. By not giving you anything but a few movie anecdotes and a half of a riddle, I could answer honestly that all I did was have a casual conversation with a few agents. If you took inspiration from my suggestion…" She shrugged.

Callen's eyes narrowed. "That's not even _remotely_ what happened."

"Perhaps. But it's the version of the truth we might have needed if events had gone otherwise."

"If the CIA or the DEA or whoever had decided to pitch a fit?"

"Something like that."

"You'd think they'd learn eventually." He held the door for her on their way out of the building. "Messing with Hetty Lange never ends well for people's careers or their health."

"You make it sound far worse than it is, Mister Callen."

G was smiling. "No, I don't make it sound _nearly_ as bad as it is. I can name at least ten agents who would give up their immortal souls to undo whatever they did to you."

"And I can name many more than that who would say the same about you, Mister Callen."

As they walked to where their cars were parked, G pulled out his phone. "Should I call the restaurant ahead? Warn them about not getting your order wrong before we add to your tally? I'm sure the wait-staff would appreciate a heads-up before you come down on them like a ton of bricks."

"Do it and _you'll_ be the next on my list." And her expression was affronted, but her eyes were laughing.

And deep down, they both knew the dark and cold truth which was so easy to laugh about. They both knew that they had indeed ruined lives, and not just those on the other side of the game. They had both, in their time, done the very worst for the sake of a mission, for the sake of national security, for the sake of the bigger picture.

It was something they could joke about now precisely _because_ it was in the past, never to be returned. They had both given up the Grey life for one with a great deal more color.


	129. S6E9 Traitor

Season 6, Episode 9: Traitor

* * *

Hetty waited until she was absolutely certain Owen was asleep beyond waking, aided by the many drugs still swimming in his system, of course, before she raised her voice to the hallway.

"A candy striper, Mister Callen?"

His head popped into the room, disarming smile at the ready. "Excuse me. I am a nursing assistant."

She smiled. "If the scrubs fit…"

"They kinda don't," he said, edging into the room. "There's a whole waistband thing going on here that I don't understand."

She saw his relaxed body language, but also saw how he positioned himself relative to the doorway and the window to the nurses' station. He was not as amped up now as he had been after rescuing Eric from the mole, but his heightened sense of protectiveness had yet to retreat.

"I shall be sure to add some designer scrubs to our wardrobe department just for you," Hetty said. Then she looked at him over her glasses. "May I ask what you are doing here?"

His shrug was all too casual. "Just keeping watch."

"How is our Mister Beale?"

"Soaking up every bit of attention he can get from Nell." Callen shook his head. "I thought Kensi and Deeks were bad, but the Wonder Twins...which, if they're going the way they seem to be going, is a little creepy since twins are siblings and they definitely aren't."

Hetty held up a hand. She knew that babble for what it was — and what it wasn't. It was no intentional blind; he was rarely so clumsy. It was a signal. A worry he didn't want to voice, so he gave her others to fill the silence.

"Owen will be fine, Mister Callen."

"Of course he will be. He's too stubborn to die like this."

"Yes." She smiled. "He is."

"And he wouldn't give us the satisfaction."

"If there is one thing I know about Owen, it is that he will spite God himself before he will surrender so easily." She tipped her head. "No matter how difficult, Owen always rises above circumstances to find his way."

Callen frowned. "Don't turn this around on me."

"Did I mention you, Mister Callen?"

"Not yet." He raised an eyebrow. "But in about ten seconds, I figure you're going to make this into some kind of lesson about how the fact that we had a mole the whole time and didn't know, about how he killed members of my staff, about how he almost killed Eric...somehow you're going to make it sound like it isn't my fault."

"Because it isn't."

"See? There. You did it." He snarled. "It's _not_ that easy. Granger could be _dead_. Two people _are_ dead. _Eric_ could be dead. That mole...he could have…"

"I know." And she felt her own grief and guilt leak into her words. "I know. But we cannot live holding onto what has been. We can only go forward."

"What's forward from here?" he asked, anger building up in his face and the set of his shoulders. "We don't even know who was behind it, or why. We don't know how far the rabbit hole goes."

"And we won't find out tonight," Hetty said. "Tonight, we can only be grateful that we have brought light to the first obstacle, and prepare to tackle the next another time."

He looked away and she made a sharp gesture with her head, wordlessly demanding his attention.

"We have been betrayed, Mister Callen, yes. But we are not defeated. And for as long as we continue to fight, we never shall be."

She watched him let out a breath and nod. "Right."

"Now." She leaned back in her chair. "I know that events such as these make you return to your bulldog ways and give you ideas about trying to protect us all in our sleep while you take none for yourself."

He opened his mouth to object and she glared him into silence once more.

"I know you, Mister Callen. And while there is little I can do about your habitual need to guard us all, I can do this much. Go home. Or at least go elsewhere. That's an order."

He blinked.

"Tonight, I will stand guard over Owen. That is my right as his oldest friend...and sometimes enemy. You will allow me this. Even if you go and watch over Sam, or Mister Beale, you will leave Owen to me. After all, you're not the only one stinging from the betrayal within our ranks."

She watched him consider that, and finally nod. "Okay. If you're sure…"

Hetty smiled. With a gesture almost too quick for the eye to track, her hidden derringer pistol was in her hand from where it had been secreted in her sleeve by her arm rig.

"I'm sure. Now, I will stand guard for Owen. You, Mister Callen, get what rest you can. Because tomorrow and the days to come will be more dangerous still than today has been." She met his eyes and held them. "I need you sharp, I need you rested, and I need you ready."

And he looked back, unflinchingly. "I will be," he vowed.


	130. S6E10 Reign Fall

Sorry about missing last week. Unexpected work chaos. Gotta love having a new job and learning not just the new company and everything they do, but the languages of everyone there! Anyway, this one came from a throwaway line in the middle. It's obvious that Hetty listens a lot more closely to the comms than anyone gives her credit for.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 6, Episode 10: Reign Fall

* * *

The following morning, Callen found a note tucked in his file of half-completed paperwork. That in itself wasn't at all unusual — Sam had a habit of leaving indicators like that when G had left something out or had fudged the details too much to reconcile with everybody else's reports. Sometimes Deeks did it just to add commentary or point out where he hadn't gotten enough credit for some move he thought was particularly badass. Kensi was the only one who didn't regularly invade his files.

But this note was in Hetty's handwriting.

"You were half-correct."

Well, that wasn't a helpful comment. Half correct about what? When? Something in this case file or something else entirely?

Not at all coincidentally, Hetty called a meeting of the rest of the team, but requested that he stay behind to continue his paperwork. He shrugged off the teasing, instead trying to catch her eye for some kind of hint as to what on earth she was getting at.

Hetty gave him a beatific smile and a wave — and nothing else to go on.

"Fine," he sighed to himself when the bullpen was clear. "I guess I'm on my own."

Working steadily, Callen went over every single word in his report twice, checking them against the evidence, the logged interviews, even the recordings of the comms. Once he was absolutely certain that her note couldn't _possibly_ be referring to anything that had happened specific to the case, then he backtracked through the other stuff — emails and texts from the duration of the case but which weren't related to it. But unless Hetty meant for him to include some of Eric's whining about lunch options, that wasn't it, either.

It was nearly mid-afternoon, his team hadn't come back, and he was getting annoyed.

But he kept searching. Hetty left him a clue deliberately, and he was going to hunt it down.

Finally, as he glanced over the transcripts from one of his conversations with Sam — logged because they'd been on comms but not relevant to the investigation — he spotted it.

" _No one ever pushed me. People push you when they care._ "

He threw himself backwards in his chair, sighing.

"Should have known."

Then he laughed.

When he submitted his paperwork half an hour later, one of the most complete write-ups he'd ever done, he stuck a note on top just for Hetty.

"Point taken. Thank you for the push."


	131. S6E11 Humbug

So, this is the episode in which Joelle finds out about Callen's true identity, and ends with her going ice skating with the team and the Hanna family. I felt bad that Hetty didn't get her moment to shine on the ice, so I gave her this.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 6, Episode 11: Humbug

* * *

Although Sam was going to be spending the holidays with Michelle's family, that didn't mean there wasn't the now-traditional Christmas dinner at the Hanna home attended by Callen and Hetty. Gifts were exchanged, and the presence of Aiden only added to the celebratory air.

And if there was some light teasing about why exactly Callen had attended without his girlfriend who now was in on their secret lives, it was meant fondly and with warmth.

Later, as Sam went to do a quick round of dishes while Michelle refereed for Kamran and Aiden in a game of wrapping paper basketball, Hetty drew Callen aside.

"You could have invited her," she said.

"She had her own family get-together," he said. Then he glanced at her. "And there's a few things I'd rather keep to myself for a while yet."

She smiled, understanding. Callen was close to this girlfriend, liked her more than he might be willing to admit, but he was still an intensely private person whose first instinct was self-preservation.

And self-preservation, when it came to Callen's heart, always included Hetty, too.

"But I'm sorry you didn't get to come skating with us," he added after a moment.

"It's been a very long time since I was last skating," Hetty said. "I fear I would have been somewhat less graceful and somewhat more bruised."

"Not from what I've seen."

She blinked at him.

Callen reached behind him and drew a slim present from between the cushions of the nearest couch. With some flair, he handed it to her.

"Merry Christmas, Hetty."

She shook her head but accepted it, seeing the eager light in his eyes that was more akin to Kamran than any grown person. She could feel through the paper that it was a picture frame.

Unwrapping it carefully, she felt a gasp of wonder escape her.

"I...I didn't know such a picture existed anywhere."

"I know." Callen was grinning like a child. "I figured I should help fill the gap in your collection."

Hetty brushed her fingers across the glass, staring at the image.

On the left was Peggy Fleming, immortalized forever in the perfect grace of a layback.

On the right, Hetty herself was spinning beside her.

"All those movie stars on the wall in the office," Callen said, "but you never talk about her."

"Peggy...is very special to me." Hetty smiled at the picture, and would have denied to her dying breath that there were tears in her eyes. "She showed the world that strength not only _could_ be beautiful, but that it is not true strength without it."

"She's not the only graceful one in that picture," he said.

"Well." Hetty's smile went even softer. "She was also a fantastic teacher."

"So are you, Hetty."

Hetty wrapped her hands around the frame and held it close. "Merry Christmas, my boy. And thank you."


	132. S6E12 Spiral

This is one of those episodes that takes an unexpected turn in the middle. Opening with Callen undercover in an office building, the building gets invaded by terrorists with a secret goal of acquiring a virus from a nearby lab. Callen makes a friend and tries to keep her safe, only to find out that she is part of the group behind the attack and she leaves him exposed to a horrifying disease. Callen seals the room he's in and sends the rest of his team to handle the chase while he slowly succumbs to the disease. At the end of the episode, the whole team is standing outside with Hetty watching him being loaded onto a gurney.

There's NO WAY Hetty didn't talk to him before then, though.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 6, Episode 12: Spiral

* * *

His chest was burning, and his tongue tasted like he'd been licking a Turkish urinal. He'd managed to get himself to a chair, and then, probably stupidly, to drag it near to the glass door where he could see what was happening.

The hazmat team had gathered outside and were suiting up. They had already spoken to him through the door, getting symptoms and assessing his level of awareness while they scrambled. But they hadn't rushed in yet, and he knew why — the whole area was contaminated. It was too great of a risk to open the door until they could secure everything from the rooms outside the lab to the vents and air ducts so that not a single particle of Spiral could escape.

It was time he might not be able to spare, but it was time which would save lives, and he couldn't begrudge them that.

However, at the sight of a familiar face, even made strange behind a hazmat suit and mask, he recoiled.

"No," and he found the strength to say it loudly. "No, you get out of here."

Hetty Lange placed a double-gloved hand on the barrier between them.

"Are you all right?" she demanded.

"No. I don't want you here." He made himself open his eyes all the way, forcing himself from the half-lidded exhaustion that dragged at every atom of his body. "Please."

She closed her own eyes for a moment. "I am safe for now, Mister Callen. I give you my word, I will not allow myself or any of our team to be exposed. If...if this is your last choice, I won't let it be in vain."

He gulped, swallowing blood, and nodded.

"But you will not deny me this chance to speak to you."

He laughed, and blood dribbled down his lips. "Read any good books lately?"

Hetty flinched, and he could see paleness in her cheeks and fear in her eyes where he would have given anything to keep either from ever reaching her. "None that you would appreciate, I fear. Your taste in literature has never run to the classics."

"Too...too much like Oliver Twist to like it much," he said.

"No, you're more the Artful Dodger than Oliver, but even that scarcely fits." And maybe he imagined it, but he probably didn't, that there was almost a sob in her voice, only barely concealed from all but the one who knew best how to hear it. "If anything, you were Scout, now grown up to become Atticus Finch. Bold, wise, noble, honorable. Willing to stand...against the world...in defense of what is right and...in defense of those…"

"Hetty." In an uncoordinated lunge, he pushed off his chair and leaned against the door, pressing his hand to hers on the other side. "Don't cry. Please."

Her face was a ruin of emotion for once, concealed from all others only by the hood of the hazmat suit. "Then _you_ must fight, Mister Callen. We'll get you out of there. We'll do _anything_ it takes. But you _must not_ give up."

The pain in his chest and the burning in his lungs was nothing to the roar of raw feeling that her broken words ignited in him.

"I...I won't. Hetty. I promise. I…"

The world was swirling around him. His vision was blurry to the point of darkness, and he sagged against the door.

"If it is the last thing I do, Mister Callen, I choose to trust in you. Now, fight, my boy. Fight for your life. Fight...please."

He tried to answer. He meant to. He wasn't sure if the words made it past the strangeness in his head and the bursting pain everywhere else.

But he hoped she could hear it.

 _I won't let you down._

That promise carried him into oblivion — and through it.


	133. S6E13 In the Line of Duty

This one was inspired just by a throwaway line in the middle of the episode unrelated to the plot. Callen refers to their team with unusual affection while chatting with Sam – but they're on comms at the time, so one assumes Hetty overheard. I decided not just to let it go.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 6, Episode 13: In the Line of Duty

* * *

Callen was enjoying sitting in his chair in his own house when the text arrived.

"Slightly dysfunctional family?"

He smiled. "Which part bothers you? Since I know it's not the family part," he typed back.

He could feel Hetty shaking her head at him from all the way across town.

"There is nothing dysfunctional about this family," she sent.

Callen laughed. "I bet Nate would disagree."

There was a pause.

"Nate recognizes that this family is unconventional, but it is exactly what it needs to be. Supportive and loyal."

G debated whether or not Hetty had literally just poked Nate, probably waking him up from wherever he was in the world, to ask. Ultimately, he decided she probably hadn't, but only because it was likely a conversation they'd had recently.

"Is Nate really qualified to offer an opinion? Isn't that a conflict of interest?" he asked.

Her response this time was rapid and sharp.

"I hardly think you and I have any standing to accuse anyone else in this family of conflict of interest."

"Fair enough." After sending that, he typed, "So, since obviously you're the matriarch, does that make me the next head of the family? Firstborn heir and all that?"

The pause this time was long, and he had ample time to think about whether that was too much, whether he'd gone too far.

About whether what he'd said in jest was out of line because it was dangerously true.

About if maybe he should just think some more before texting.

His phone dinged with Hetty's answer.

"Well spotted indeed."

G felt warm for the rest of the night.


	134. S6E14 Black Wind

A pair of simple ones tonight. I figured if Callen and Sam were going to spend this whole episode undercover in a food truck arguing about burgers, I might as well do something with it!

Thanks!

* * *

Season 6, Episode 14: Black Wind

* * *

"That is _not_ tea."

Callen looked up from his laptop, grinning at where Hetty was staring at her desk. His attention drew her own, and she pinned him with a glare from across the room.

"Mister Callen, a word."

He shuffled to his feet and made his way over, trying not to give the game away all at once.

"Something wrong, Hetty?"

"Yes." She gestured. "What, precisely, is _that_?"

"Well." He made a show of examining it. "It looks like a veggie burger."

"I can _see_ that, Mister Callen. Now, why is it on my desk?"

He blinked owlishly at her. "You expect me to know?"

"Yes." Her expression was grave. "I do."

"Oh." He shrugged. "Well, I learned a lot about them from Sam while we were in that food truck, so I thought I'd give it a try and see what you think."

She sighed. "I fear I'm going to regret this."

"What?" He couldn't keep the wide grin from his expression. "You know I can cook. You taught me."

"I'm aware. I also know the limitations of your skills."

"Oh, come on. If I can do _duck l'orange_ , I can definitely make one veggie burger."

"The skills do not necessarily translate," she said. But she sighed and sank into her chair. "Very well."

Callen had no idea how Hetty could be so prim about eating a burger even with her hands, but she was. He tried not to hover, but he couldn't stop himself from leaning over eagerly.

Hetty took a delicate bite. Paused. Chewed slowly. Swallowed. Cleared her throat.

"Do I sense Tabasco, Mister Callen?"

"It was a real hit in Mexico."

Her brow went dark. "You do know that I _despise_ Tabasco."

He hadn't, actually. "Uh, no?"

Hetty sighed. "That will be all, Mister Callen. Thank you for your efforts." She offered the plate to him.

"Was it really that bad?" he asked, torn between amusement and embarrassment.

"No. I am certain Mister Beale will quite enjoy it."

He brightened, both because he had someone to give his food to, and because she had given him the perfect opportunity.

"Good idea. Thanks, Hetty!"

He ran off towards the stairs.

"Not in Ops!" she yelled after him.

He pretended not to hear her, cackling to himself as he broke her rules and delivered the burger to their resident geek.

Who was then stuck running for his life from Hetty when she caught him with food in Ops, of course, but enjoyed every minute of the burger when he finally had a chance to eat it. Callen counted that as a win all around.


	135. S6E15 Forest for the Trees

Because apparently Swedish nachos were a recurring theme in this episode...

* * *

Season 6, Episode 15: Forest for the Trees

* * *

Hetty was surprised to see Callen calling her at home on a night when she knew that he had been planning to surprise Joelle for dinner.

"Mister Callen?"

"Hetty, is there a _reason_ that Deeks thinks he's supposed to be here teaching me to make his Swedish nachos tonight?"

She didn't chuckle, but it was a near thing. "I'm not sure why you think I would be aware of your or Mister Deeks's extracurricular plans."

The pause meant he was connecting dots, and if she'd been able to see him in person, she would have been able to watch the afrontedness bloom on his face.

"You sicced him on me!"

There was a muffled sound in the background.

"Just talking to Hetty!" he yelled. "Back in a minute!"

"You sound very busy," she said. "I wouldn't want to interrupt your evening off."

"Hetty!" He very nearly whined at her. "Why is Deeks here teaching me to cook that awful cross-cultural abomination?"

She smiled. "Perhaps he wished to share his culinary...perspective."

"This is payback for the burger in Ops, isn't it?"

"If it's taken you this long to figure out such a simple fact, I'm going to have to question your observational skills and attention to the consequences of your actions," she said.

He growled. "That's low, Hetty, using Deeks to get back at me."

"Just enjoy your evening with your teammate. Perhaps you can learn from one another."

"What, how to get food poisoning from tortilla chips?"

She laughed. "I'm certain you can find a good use of the time and of the information Mister Deeks is there to provide. And I am also certain that I taught you better manners than to spend all your time on the phone when you have a guest in your house. So I suggest you enjoy your evening."

His aggrieved sigh was cut off by more noise from Deeks in the background.

"Good night, Hetty."

"Good night, Mister Callen."

Three hours later, he sent her a text.

"I did find a way to get rid of the meatballs."

The picture along with the text showed a very happy Gouda with a bowl full of meatballs, half gone, gravy all over his whiskers.

Somehow, Hetty wasn't surprised to learn that the only living being who could stomach Deeks's Swedish nachos, other than Deeks himself and, apparently, Owen Granger, was Callen's adopted alley cat.


	136. S6E16 Expiration Date

So, this is the second Thapa episode which opens with Sam being shot by a sniper and ends with a confrontation in a hospital that sees Thapa killed in a hallway bloodbath all over a list of rogue agents. And I kind of hate this episode because I love the character of Thapa and I'm annoyed they killed him off. But, more importantly, there is a HUGE plothole in this episode. Absolutely huge. So I fixed it.

This one and the next one are kind of a two-parter of my own, and the show just nicely gave me the opportunity to do it.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 6, Episode 16: Expiration Date

* * *

"We need to stop meeting like this, Mister Callen."

She watched him let out a breath, ducking his head slightly. In the dark room, Sam asleep while the monitors beeped, she could still make out his tense expression.

"Not my fault we both seem to have an unhealthy interest in hospitals," he said.

"Hmm." She moved forward until she could stand beside his chair. "I see you've filed for some time off."

"Well, my partner's going to be in rehab for a couple of months. I figure it's a good time to take a break."

"And it has nothing to do with the list of rogue agents Ella provided us?"

Dim light or not, the low, controlled rage was clearly visible in his eyes. A sliver of madness, cold, calculating, implacable.

Tellingly, he didn't answer.

She sighed. "You know that no agency of the United States will ever give you authorization to hunt down a cabal of foreign agents in cold blood, Mister Callen."

"Good thing I'm not asking for authorization, then."

Hetty closed her eyes, pained. "We are not in the business of revenge."

"I call it justice."

She shook her head.

"Hetty." He looked up at her, the burning rage contained for a moment. "They shot my _partner_. They killed Thapa. Not to mention two detectives and nine people in this hospital, _including_ the doctor who saved Sam's life. Someone has to pay for that."

"But it's not up to you to dole out the punishment."

"It is," he said, low and even, "when they also have the location of our offices."

Hetty froze. "The tracker."

"You gave Thapa authorization to be in the office, but they put the tracker on him hours before," Callen said. "Even if they haven't already sold the info, they will. We can't let that happen." He sucked in a heavy breath. " _I_ can't let that happen. Not again. Hetty...I can't."

She rested a hand on his shoulder. "I _cannot_ endorse this, Mister Callen."

"I don't need you to endorse it. I just need you not to stop me."

"You do realize that they're not on American soil. If I permit you to go, it will be a true Black Op. I can't send you any backup, any support. And if you are caught…"

"I know." He reached up and pressed his hand to hers, squeezing tightly. "But I have to do this. For Sam, for Thapa. For all of us."

Hetty sighed, trapped by the cold reality. "Officially, then, I grant you your temporary leave of absence and we never had this conversation. And, if necessary, I will officially deny you were ever my agent."

He nodded and moved to release her hand. Hetty, quick as a striking snake, caught his fingers and held them in a grip of steel.

"But know that if you fail, I will do whatever is necessary, Mister Callen. After all, I still owe you a debt for Prague." She tried to say it lightly, but he heard all the weight of truth anyway.

"And I owe you a debt for everything else." He shut his eyes, just barely leaning against her arm at his side. "I'll be fine. And I'll be back before Sam even knows I was gone."

"You know you can never tell him. Nor the others. They must all have total plausible deniability, especially if I need to send them after you." She paused. "And if all goes well, then they will never know the sacrifice you will have made for all of their sakes."

"We'll just add that to the list of things we hope they never find out about, then." He swallowed. "Thank you, Hetty. For not stopping me."

"I will watch over Sam in your absence, just as you would. As I would watch over you were your positions reversed." She shifted slightly, as if to draw closer, perhaps even put an arm around him, but held back from such familiarity. She could see in the set of his shoulders that he was already distancing himself emotionally in order to accomplish this mission which was necessary and deplorable.

"Yeah, but Sam would never do what I'm about to do," and there was only a hint of bitterness in his voice.

"And that, Mister Callen, is why you and I are what we are, and do what we do. So no one else has to. That is the price, and the burden, of leadership." Her eyes trailed over to Sam's still form. "At times like this, I regret that you walk the same shadowy paths as myself."

"I don't regret it," he said. And he sat up fully, dropping her hand and replacing his heart in his voice with marble and ice, his secret gentleness with a diamond-sharp edge. "Not for a minute Hetty. Not when it's going to keep us all safe."

She could have called him back, but knew better. He needed the armor of emotional control to endure the task he had set himself. So she stepped away and nodded, giving him both physical and metaphorical space to leave.

"Then keep yourself safe in return, Mister Callen. No matter the cost. Do what you must, and return to us. Or I'll send this team after you and damn the consequences."

He rose from the chair and faced her squarely. "Understood."

And without another word, he was out the door.


	137. S6E17 Savoir Faire

So, this is the second part from the previous. This episode has a constant set of banter between Sam and Callen about how they have nothing in common. Callen keeps pressing Sam to find something they can share, and Sam keeps pointing out there's just nothing. In the last scene, Hetty saves the day. In the context of how I patched the plot hole in the last episode, this exchange is more important than ever.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 6, Episode 17: Savoir Faire

* * *

"Monet!"

Callen knew he was staring at her when Hetty came up with that non sequitur yelled across the office. And he continued staring all through her explanation.

Until he realized what she was actually telling him.

With Sam back in the field after his injury, it was as if nothing had changed. Except that something _had_ changed, though Sam didn't know it. After all, no one knew about Callen's trip abroad in the early weeks of Sam's recovery. No one, except Hetty, knew about the new blood he had on his hands, shed to safeguard the office and in recompense for Sam and Thapa.

When Sam had pointed out that he and G didn't have much in common at all, loathe as he was to admit it, it had stung.

Because Sam wasn't the one who turned from agent to assassin for those five weeks, not to save a life, not under orders, but for sheer, calculated, pragmatic revenge.

Also to protect the location of the office. But when he was honest with himself, G knew it was far more about the revenge.

Sam was the bravest and most honorable person G knew — and being reminded that they were different poked at a much deeper wound, one Sam probably didn't even know was there. It was a stark reminder that, no matter what G Callen did or who he became, he would always be a spy first, a killer, perhaps even a monster. And Sam was a warrior.

But Hetty knew the wound was there. She, as she knew him so well, knew this, too. He realized she must have been listening very closely indeed to this first case back, ensuring that their partnership was not damaged by the new secret Callen had to keep from his closest friend and brother.

She had overheard his attempts to find common ground with Sam, when he needed it more than ever — when he needed to be sure that he wasn't all monster, that he still fit in the circle with Sam's nobility.

Which, if he was fair — which he wasn't right now, but if he were _forcing_ himself to consider it fairly — was not actually an accurate assessment at all. Sam was a killer, too. Sam had taken lives, sometimes without orders, sometimes in cold blood. Sam was, by any empirical measure, not that different from Callen himself.

However, G saw himself in shadow, and Sam in light. Just as he was the pessimist and Sam the optimist. Just as he was street smarts and Sam was book smarts.

They were opposites in most things, and in this one as well.

But, today, he didn't want to enjoy their differences that made them stronger together. Today he wanted to be similar. Today he didn't want to be shadow. He wanted to stand equal with Sam; even if his partner never, ever found out about his illicit mission, he wanted to let himself believe that Sam would have backed him up.

And Hetty, frighteningly all-knowing, decided to prove that he would.

The paintings of Monet weren't the most compelling evidence, of course, and G wasn't thrilled with her description of them as "dainty."

But he heard the point she needed him to hear anyway.

 _You are different from Sam, but you are not alien to one another._

 _You share an appreciation for art, but, more than that, you share an appreciation for life. For beauty._

 _What binds you cannot be quantified by hobbies or interests. It resides somewhere far more dear, and far less obvious._

 _Your partner would understand what you have done. He would have gone with you himself._

 _Stop trying to validate what you share, and simply share it._

And, as usual, by saying so little, Hetty told him exactly what he needed, and he could close the day with a lighter heart.

Which also reminded him — Sam wasn't the only one he had, the only one who knew his heart.

Hetty was more shadowed, like himself, and if she could be all that she was and _still_ be like him as well…

Yeah, G was going to be fine.


	138. S6E18 Fighting Shadows

Sorry I'm a day late. Life in Minneapolis is stressful these days.

This is the episode where Hetty tells Kensi and Deeks that the LAPD is beginning to investigate Deeks, but that they should continue as normal until they make a move.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 6, Episode 18: Fighting Shadows

* * *

After Kensi and Deeks were gone, Callen emerged from his hiding spot and made his way to Hetty's office.

"So, what's the plan?"

She shook her head at him. "It largely depends upon what the LAPD believes requires their attention."

He sat across from her. "You mean even you don't know what the IA investigators have on him?"

"Unfortunately, no. And I don't expect to be able to unravel their secrets until it may be too late."

Callen sighed. "This could get really ugly."

Hetty nodded. "Yes."

"But we're going to do something about it." He leaned forward. "If they come after Deeks, we're going to handle it. Right?"

"Mister Callen." She met his eyes. "Have I _ever_ given you the impression that I wouldn't do my very best for any one of my people?"

"Of course not."

"Then." She settled more comfortably in her chair. "Continue to trust that I will guard our Mister Deeks as I would you. Whatever the LAPD thinks they know, or intends to do, they won't do it without our knowledge. And, should it be required, we will be there."

"Because Deeks is one of ours."

Hetty raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking me that, or telling me?"

Callen smiled. "Telling. But you already know that."

"Yes, I do. In fact, I knew it before you did."

He smirked. "As usual."

Hetty smiled. "Indeed. But it is...gratifying to know that you know it as well."

Callen shifted in his chair. His expression went playful, hiding the seriousness beneath. "Well, he's part of our team. And Kensi would take us apart if we left him to the wolves. Did you know he didn't realize we already knew about them being together?"

"To be fair, you and I have known about them before there was much in the way of a 'them,'" Hetty pointed out.

"Do you know if Granger knows?"

"Not for certain. But, regardless, that is something else I will watch for. I'm not about to lose two of my best agents, not to the LAPD investigation and not to some sensible but irrelevant regulations." Hetty made a tiny quirk of a smile. "As you well know, some regulations simply don't apply under the right circumstances."

Callen grinned. "No, I wouldn't know _anything_ at all about that."

Hetty nodded. "Precisely. Now, leave the LAPD to me. You just continue to lead your team as you always have."

"Even though two thirds of my agents are dating? And that's not saying anything about Eric and Nell."

"Well." She shrugged. "Thankfully, you are well-equipped to handle such complications."

"Yeah, because I have such a _helpful_ dating history of my own," he snarked.

"No," and her eyes were steady. "Because you know how to balance loyalty with effectiveness. How to demand emotional distance without quashing interpersonal relationships. Believe me, Mister Callen. You are fully capable of managing this, from all sides."

"And if not?"

"Then that's why I'm here."

G nodded. "Thanks, Hetty." He rose to go. "For all of it."

"Good night, Mister Callen."

"Good night."


	139. S6E19 Blaze of Glory

This is the episode with the hacker kid and his girlfriend who turns out to be a terrorist and the fight culminates in a puppet theater. And then everybody has ice cream in the puppet theater for some reason. It was not an easy one to write for!

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 6, Episode 19: Blaze of Glory

* * *

Callen noticed that his ice cream was a little separate from the others, and that Hetty very deliberately ensured that he received that particular glass. If it had been anyone else handing him the ice cream, he would have been cautious and suspicious; because it was Hetty, he was merely curious and suspicious.

Upon taking his first bite, he understood why. It had been flavored with mint.

And a quick inspection with his spoon revealed that they were actual mint leaves, crushed up, not the fake syrup stuff he'd had in his drive-thru milkshake earlier in the day.

He shook his head. Leave it to Hetty to be paying that close attention.

And he would never, ever admit it to Sam, but the real thing tasted a lot better than what came in a paper cup.

Callen caught Hetty's eyes on him and he grinned, saluting her with the ice cream.

She smiled back, giving him a nod before she returned to her discussion with Granger of the many photos on the wall.

It was the kind of little details like that which really set Hetty apart. Who else would listen to every word of an operation, even the boring ones, and remember all the meaningless details of hours of banter? And who else would do anything about it?

Even if it was just to make a subtle point about healthy eating?

Callen would never truly understand the depths of that woman.

Was it any wonder he would follow her into hell?

"Hey, Hetty!" Deeks yelled from the other end of the room. "Is there any chance we could get you to dress up like one of these puppets and sneak into Sam's house on Halloween?"

"Deeks, I'mma kill you where you stand, I swear," Sam warned.

Hetty just raised an eyebrow.

Callen sighed. In the time it took to cross the room, he had figured out an appropriate retribution for Deeks and his weird sense of humor.

Some days he didn't have to follow Hetty into hell — he just had to be her sword.

Or, in the case of Deeks, maybe something more like a pair of scissors.

And it turned out that Deeks had the right shaped head for that particular hat with the big purple feather and the clump of sequins. The pictures made for _spectacular_ payback.


	140. S6E20 Rage

Hi all – sorry about the delay. And especially before one of the most pivotal episodes in the relationship between Hetty and Callen!

This is the one that set canon on its side, establishing that their connection went back much farther than previously shown. This is the origin of Callen's knowledge of Hetty's homes, of their training as well as schooling together, of the dozens of hints and facts that suddenly make a lot more sense. "Rage" is the episode that made me have to write this whole series – because they have such history, and I needed to show its edges!

So here we go. Enjoy!

* * *

Season 6, Episode 20: Rage

* * *

Hetty knew, when she sent Sam to that fateful spot of the first milestone in her journey with G Callen, that it would end with that boy sneaking into her house once again. Korean barbeque or not, he wouldn't stay away. Not tonight.

He did not disappoint.

She was waiting for him in the kitchen of one of her older homes, the kind which had never been renovated and whose cupboards showed the wear of their years. He slipped in the door from the garden, blinking in the bright lights that lit up the room in its golden colors.

"You didn't come to dinner," he said, slipping his shoes off.

Hetty smiled from the table. "I thought perhaps you might like some time to decompress with your team." She peered more closely at him. "Sit."

He blinked, but obeyed.

After she set the stove to heat the kettle, she drew a small first aid kit from a drawer and carried it to the table. "It seems you had a rather difficult day."

"Hetty…" he began.

"No, no." She caught his chin and turned his face to the light, examining the bruising around his eye. "You will let me do this."

He twitched in her grip. "I did take a shower. Nobody likes being drenched in gasoline."

"And I appreciate that you aren't a walking fire hazard, but a shower is not sufficient for what is needed."

With careful hands, she cleaned the cut on the bridge of his nose and disinfected it. She also examined his scalp for other wounds than the obvious one on his forehead, bandaging only the worst of the lot.

"Shirt," she said when she was finished with his head.

He sighed but pulled his shirt up over his head, wincing where he had apparently taken a vicious kick to one shoulder. Hetty could read the violence of the day in the mottled bruising on his skin, the clear impressions of fists and feet littering his body.

She sighed, too, and gently cleaned and bandaged the blows which had broken through enough to bleed.

"Ribs?" she asked.

"Fine."

"Hmm." She pushed his arms out of her way and expertly examined his ribcage herself. "I don't know what is in your bones, Mister Callen," she said as she felt around, "but it is made of very stern stuff. Most people would have at least one full break after such treatment."

"Just lucky, I guess."

"Yes, you are." She pulled back and tipped her head at him. "Anything else?"

"Nope. It really wasn't that bad. Not even in my top twenty-five beat-downs." He made a cocky smile.

She shook her head. The kettle started to whistle, which provided her with an opportunity to turn away. "There is an ice pack in the freezer for that one bruise if you need it."

Callen pulled his shirt back over his head. "No, thanks."

While Hetty poured the hot water, she asked in a deliberately casual tone, "So, I take it Mister Hanna has some new insight about us which, I hope, he knows well not to share?"

"Yeah. I figured...you wouldn't have sent him after me if you didn't want him to know."

"It isn't about him knowing or not knowing," she said, turning around. "It is about what you might have needed from a friend in a difficult moment."

"So...you let me tell Sam a secret we've been keeping for years...because you thought I might need a shoulder to cry on?"

She smiled. "Something like that."

But he shook his head. "Sam is great. He's my best friend, my partner, my brother. But...he's not who I needed to talk to tonight."

"I guessed as much when I heard your step at the back door." She was teasing him, gently, of course, but also providing him with space for levity. She knew, with so much practice, that sometimes her boy needed that space in order to face himself with honesty.

Again, he did not disappoint.

"When he found me, I was sitting there, staring at that stupid pole. And I was thinking about why it was different for me. Why I was the one lucky enough to have the mom I did, which meant you finding your way to me. Why I wasn't just like Charlie, with nobody."

She watched him, the emotions chasing each other across his face. He was so very expressive, so easy to read, when he allowed himself to truly feel. It was part of what made him a good agent, when he could use honesty where no amount of acting would suffice.

It was also what made him a good person.

"I told Sam that everything I am...is because of you, Hetty."

She smiled, letting him see the warmth his words brought to her heart. "Not everything, Mister Callen. Without my help, you may have ended on a different path, but there is no doubt in my mind that the man I am speaking with now would have emerged from whatever path you took. I gave you a chance, but you have always made your own choices."

"No." He shook his head. "I was an angry, scared, lost kid. I knew how to fight and how to protect myself, but not how to protect others — or why. I knew how to talk back to authority, but not how to respect it."

"There are those I'm not sure would agree that you've ever learned that," she said wryly.

He chuckled. "Maybe not. But loyalty? Selflessness? Dedication to something greater than myself? I learned those from you."

"Oh, Mister Callen." Suddenly taken with emotion, she busied herself at the counter again, pulling out the tea leaves from their cups and adding a bit of honey instead of sugar.

"Hetty."

He stepped up behind her, and she could feel his emotions in the very air.

She turned around, and she let her face reflect what she was feeling. "Whatever gifts I was able to give to you, you have repaid a hundred times over, my boy. Whatever small lessons I could impart, you have long since improved upon. It...has been my honor, and my very great privilege, to be your family all these years."

He nodded, and his eyes were too bright.

"I just...I need to be sure you really know. What you did for me. What you...what you mean to me. Without you, I wouldn't…" He cleared his throat. "You gave me _life_ , Hetty. As much...as much as my mother did. And you've kept on doing it...ever since I was fifteen."

She reached out and G immediately bent down, dropping to one knee before her as if swearing fealty — which, truly, he had done long before, and they both knew it.

Hetty ran her fingers over his head again, not looking for hurts, but in benediction. She finally rested the flat of her hand on his cheek.

"I loved every child who was ever put in my care. I love all my agents still. The trials of our profession can divide some people from one another, but they can also draw us closer — as they have with our team. Few people in our line of work agree, but I have often found that agents who have become family are the most successful. Though they can be compromised, they are far more likely to do the impossible for one another. Out of that same love."

There was the slightest wobble in G's jaw, but he held still.

"Of course I know what is in your heart, dear. Of course I do. You have done the impossible for me many times."

"And you for me," he managed in a voice that rasped.

"And so I trust that you know," and her own voice caught, "what you mean to me as well."

His smile cracked a little bit. "Does that mean I'm your favorite?"

Hetty huffed a laugh that was dangerously close to tears. "You ridiculous boy." And she put her arms around him.

He held her tightly. "Thank you for saving me," he whispered.

"Always," she whispered back. "Always."


	141. S6E21 Beacon

Season 6, Episode 21: Beacon

* * *

On the way out the door, G glanced at Hetty. "So…"

"Yes, Mister Callen?"

"Just...one question."

She sighed but continued moving. "Ask it before I leave you talking to yourself in the parking lot."

He smiled. "When exactly are you going to teach us how to scare the crap out of people the way you did with Arkady today?"

"You have intimidated your fair share of suspects," she said.

"Yeah, but it's not the same. Is it the pantsuit? Maybe the cravat?"

Hetty shook her head and he could see her absolute refusal to show amusement. "Perhaps it is that my threats are _extremely_ credible."

"What, and mine aren't?"

"Arkady knows you are, in some respects, his friend. I, on the other hand, would dropkick him off the Santa Monica Pier if he gave me good cause."

Callen shook his head. "No, I don't think it's just that. I think you do some kind of Jedi mind trick thing on bad guys...and on kinda bad guys. And they just start shaking in their shoes when you walk in."

"Well, if that's so, then you will need more than a pantsuit to replicate it." Finally she cracked a half-smile in his direction. "And, speaking as one who is thoroughly familiar with your wardrobe, I don't think it's a look you should cultivate."

"Hmm." He huffed a laugh. "So I guess I'll focus on being scary and intense and leave all the guys too tough for me to crack to you."

"As it should be," she said. "After all, I can't leave you all the fun, now can I?"

"I guess not."


	142. S6E22 Field of Fire

Sorry for being a day late, all! Tonight we have a weird one-off; regardless of the plot of the episode, Deeks spends his time getting excited about joining a Big Brother program and getting a kid who is just like him (surfing, tacos, etc) – only for the kid to be swapped out at the end for someone interested in 3D chess and German opera. It was so random, I had to play with it.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 6, Episode 22: Field of Fire

* * *

Callen didn't make reference to Deeks talking about "The Magic Flute" with his newly-assigned little brother on accident, and he had to immediately leave before he gave away the joke after uttering the words. Hetty, he knew, wouldn't crack in any way Deeks could read.

But he had to get out before Hetty killed him for the reminder.

Callen had been twenty years old, spending a week off at one of Hetty's places in Europe between classes at The Company. He'd thought to surprise her with tickets to the opera, to show her how much he appreciated everything she'd done for him. However, he'd chosen "The Magic Flute," and he hadn't told her in advance what opera they would be attending.

Once Hetty saw the name on the theater's sign, she had actually shuddered. But all she would say was, "Time for you to learn about why you must always do your research in advance of any operation, no matter how casual"

Callen had quickly learned why Hetty hated it so much.

"It's not just the allegory to the struggle between the Roman Catholic Church and the Order of Freemasonry that could not be more obvious if they tried, though that is aggravating in itself. Boys with their toys trying to split the world in two with their secret clubs," she'd said at intermission.

No, it was the misogyny and racism. Callen was pretty sure he sprained his eyeballs rolling them at the references to the Queen of the Night "usurping the power of men." And Hetty was nearly vibrating with the power of her disgust.

In the end, they gave the shortest applause possible and fled the opera as soon as they could escape their seats.

Callen had apologized by buying her a late supper.

"I wish that Queen of the Night had kicked all their butts," he'd said. "No wonder she was mad, having to deal with all those guys. Did Mozart ever meet a real woman, or did he just hang out with a bunch of eighteenth century frat boys?"

Hetty had laughed. "I am very glad to know that you are a more enlightened man than Mozart when it comes to gender and capability."

"Duh. I hang out with you."

"And I suppose this means you will be better about making assumptions prior to gaining proper intelligence."

" _Definitely_."

Afterwards, it had turned into something of an in-joke. One of their many, many references known only to themselves.

But this time, Callen had planted it for a different reason.

Hetty frowned at his retreating back and turned back to Deeks, who was still staring forlornly at his newly matched 'little brother.'

"A word of advice, Mister Deeks."

"Anything."

"Keep the boy away from 'The Magic Flute' if you have any respect for modern cultural and societal values. And if you ever hum so much as a single bar of it in my presence, well...I will set your ears to bleeding."

Deeks looked utterly stricken.

Hetty gave him a little nod. "Enjoy your evening, Mister Deeks."

She wasn't even surprised to find that Callen beat her home that night and left a little drawing of a flute in her mailbox.


	143. S6E23 Kolcheck, A

So, here begins a 3 episode arc that leads the team to Russia and ends with Episode 1 of Season 7 where Callen has gone completely and totally rogue for all the wrong reasons. But this is where it begins.

Enjoy!

* * *

Season 6, Episode 23: Kolcheck, A

* * *

Callen was just finishing picking through the last weapons locker in the armory when he stopped. Tensed.

"Damn it."

"So, what, may I ask, is your brilliant plan, Agent Callen?" Hetty's voice was even, if dangerously unamused.

"You heard what Arkady said." He closed the locker and turned to face her. "They have his daughter Anna. And they have eighty million dollars worth of oil to sell. We can't just sit here and hope the Russian authorities figure it out on their own."

Hetty took a few more steps into the room. "So. Your plan, then, is to...go AWOL? Launch a mission in Russian territory without authorization?"

Callen swallowed, but he didn't flinch. "If that's what it takes."

She frowned. "Is this because of the connection to Arkady, or to your father?"

"A woman's life is in danger, and that oil could mean World War Three depending on who buys it," he said, anger making his words biting. "It's not about Arkady and it's not about me. It's about that."

She studied him carefully, then nodded. "Very well." And headed to her personal locker, opening the cage with a quick code.

"Hetty?" Callen set down the gear he had been packing and moved to her side. "What are you doing?"

She scoffed at him. "What does it look like I'm doing? Stocking up on vegetables?"

He watched her pull out her arm rig, her custom ankle-holster, and a few pieces of jewelry he had no idea what they did.

"Hetty, you're not coming with me to Moscow."

"You are wrong on both counts, Mister Callen," she said, expertly checking her weaponry piece by piece. "I _am_ , in fact, coming with you to Moscow, and _you_ are not going alone."

She turned and pinned him with a glare.

"Officially, this will be an unsanctioned operation. The Navy cannot publically participate in the level of espionage this task requires. Unofficially, however, this is going to take the full team. Assistant Director Granger has received permission for all of us to go. Well," and she crinkled a touch of a smile, "our team and ourselves, that is. Mister Beale and Miss Jones will remain here to support us from Ops."

"It's too dangerous," he said before he could help himself. "Not just this operation. I know for a fact you're wanted in Russia. If they catch you…"

"They won't."

"Hetty…"

"Enough." She held up a hand and met his eyes. "Like it or not, Mister Callen, I am coming with you. Among other things, I don't trust Arkady as far as I could throw him. He will need a constant watcher — and that person will be me. That will leave you free to lead your team and do your jobs."

"But…"

"I am aware of the risks, Mister Callen. And they are not just to myself — you have a fine reputation yourself with some members of the former KGB. We will _all_ have to be at the top of our game."

She snapped the arm rig out once, its speed quicker than the eye could track.

"Which is why I am going to give you an order right now, and if you cannot accept it, I will do whatever is necessary to keep you from joining the mission in the first place. Including tranquilizing you right here and now and leaving you locked in the armory for a week."

G blinked at her. "You wouldn't."

"Of course I would," she said, looking at him like he was an idiot. "It's my job to do what I must to ensure the safety of my agents. By any means. You would do well to remember that."

He drew in a breath. "So, what's the order?"

"If I give you the command to 'walk away' — from _anything —_ you must do so. Without question, without hesitation. And when the time comes to leave Moscow and return home, you will do so, no matter what or who that means we leave behind us. I will say the same to the others as well, but you are the one who _must_ give me your solemn word to obey the order if I give it."

"Are you worried I'll let things get personal?"

"Frankly, yes." She was facing him now, and he realized there was something in each of her hands, and her arms were loose at her sides. It was a similar stance to when Kensi was about to hurl a throwing knife with deadly accuracy.

G realized her threat was absolutely not idle.

"Now. Your _word_ , Mister Callen. Unbreakable, sworn on whatever you hold most dear. If I give you the order to walk away, and when I say we are returning to the United States, you _will_ do as I say. Promise me."

He closed his eyes and ducked his head. It ached to promise such a thing, knowing especially that the chances were good she would use this promise against him when he would most desperately not want to obey those exact orders. It made something feel cold in his gut.

But not going with them at all was far, far worse.

"I promise you, Hetty. I give you my word."

She regarded him for another moment before nodding.

"Very well."


End file.
